


Gravity Falls: It's Relative!

by runawaycartoonist



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Relativity Falls, Gen, I'll add more as I go, Mystery Trio, ageswap au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:44:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6748741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaycartoonist/pseuds/runawaycartoonist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanley and Stanford Pines have been shipped up to Gravity Falls to spend the summer with their Grauntie Mabel, a sweet old lady who runs a tourist trap, bakes glitter into cookies, and lives in a knitted paradise. The longer the twins stay in Gravity Falls, the more they realize that this seemingly innocent little town is not what it seems...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I don't have a beta, so tell me if I messed something up. Shoot me a kudos if you want me to continue this!

“Ford, hear me out. If you really think about it, every problem can be solved by  _ punching! _ ” Stanley punctuated his point by slamming his fist into the window of the bus.

Stanford laughed and kicked his legs in the air. He was still a little too short to let his feet touch the floor when he sat on the bus seat. “Oh yeah? What about a jerk kid shooting spitballs at you?”

“I’ll punch him!” He punched his backpack and sent it flying across the empty bus. 

“What about bad grades?”

“Punch the teacher!” He slammed both fists down onto the cushy, sticky bus seat.

“... Sunburn?” asked Stanford slyly.

“I’LL PUNCH THE SUN!” Stanley pointed through the window, up at the cloudless Oregon sky. “That’s right, you heard me! I’m coming for you!”

Ford collapsed into a fit of laughter, holding onto his sides. “You’d get fried to a crisp!”

“Well, then you can use that big brain o’ yours to invent some… super mitts! So I can  _ fight the sun! _ ”

The bus pulled to a stop, and Stan lost his balance, flopping gracelessly to the floor. This set Stanford off into another fit of giggles, his glasses slipping down his nose.

“ _ Next stop, Gravity Falls, _ ” said a toneless voice over the intercom.

“Sweet!” Stanley haphazardly shoved his comic books back into his backpack. “This summer is gonna be great! We can go fishing, stay up late and tell scary stories, maybe find buried treasure!”

“And monsters!”

Stan lightly cuffed his twin on the shoulder. “And babes! Don’t forget babes.”

“Ew!” Stanford made a face. “Girls are gross!”

“You’re gross!”

The two of them laughed and grabbed their bags. Ford chased Stanley out of the bus, and before they could get away, they were immediately caught up in the strong arms of an older woman.

“Gotcha!” she said triumphantly.

She was older, with greying hair and laugh lines behind her pink-framed glasses. She grinned widely as she hoisted them both into the air, her gold tooth glittering in the sunshine. “How’re my favourite nephews?”

“Good!” squeaked Stanley.

“C-can’t breathe!” gasped out Ford.

Great-Aunt Mabel set them down and picked up their duffel bags, tossing them easily over one shoulder. Her smile was as bright as her blue blazer, paired with a hot pink dress underneath.

“It’s so great to see you kids again!” she said, walking briskly over to an electric green motorbike that was parked nearby. “I haven’t seen you anklebiters since you were yay high.” She gestured with one large hand to about knee height. “This summer is gonna be a blast with you kids around!”

“Great-Aunt Mabel, are we riding in that?” Ford didn’t really like the idea too much.

“Aw, sick!” Stanley bounced over to the sidecar and plopped in next to his duffel bag. “This is awesome!”

“Helmet.” Great-Aunt Mabel dropped a maroon helmet onto Stan’s head, and an identical one onto Ford’s. For herself, she strapped on a hot-pink helmet with a shooting star on the side. “Hop aboard, Stanley.”

“I’m Stanley,” said Stan from his spot in the sidecar.

“I’m Stan _ ford. _ ” Ford crossed his arms and pouted.

Mabel waved him off and pulled her goggles on. “We can fuss about with names, later. Get in the car, kiddo!”

Ford reluctantly crawled in next to his twin. He squeaked when Mabel revved up the engine, kicked up the stand, and took off.

It was a well-maintained bike. It roared without sputtering and turned with perfect smoothness. The speed made their eyes water. Stanley whooped and cheered as they zipped by the trees, and Ford almost began to enjoy himself until he hit a pothole and let out an undignified squeal.

They turned off the highway onto a dirt road, bumped along for another half mile under a canopy of coniferous trees, until they came to the Mystery Shack.

It was decrepit looking little building, like it had been cobbled together in a hurry. Vines crept up one side next to a small vegetable garden, and on the other side was a pen with a big fat pig rolling around in the mud. The sign next to the pen said “Waddles” in cursive.

Several signs were scattered on the premises, labelled with phrases like “ _ Come see the mystery shack! _ ” and “ _ You won’t believe your eyes! _ ”. They all pointed to the door of the shack. Most of them were pink, all of them were glittery, but none compared to the enormous neon letters that sat atop the shack itself. The “S” had fallen to the side, but it still sparkled in the sunshine.

“Welcome to your home away from home!” said Great-Aunt Mabel.

“Great-Aunt Mabel-” started Ford.

“Grauntie Mabel is fine, Stanley.”

“Stanford. I just wanted to say I’m hungry.”

“Me too!” said Stanley. “I could eat a horse!”

Grauntie Mabel laughed and put her helmet under her arm. “I don’t have any fresh horse, but I’ve got just the thing to cure a rumbling tummy!” She grabbed the duffel bags and heaved them over her shoulder. “This way, kids!”

“Food! Food! Food!” chanted Stanley, pumping his fist in the air as he ran after Mabel.

Stanford climbed out of the sidecar and pulled his backpack over his shoulder, dropping his helmet into the car.

He heard a strange noise in the trees. It sounded like the chattering of teeth, or maybe a growl. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He wondered if Stanley’s scary stories had some truth to them. Was there anything out there?

“Ford! C’mon!”

He jogged into the Mystery Shack. He passed the front desk, where a red-headed teen was sitting by the cash register, his feet up on the desk, reading a magazine. He was wearing a grey t-shirt and suspenders, and he had freckles scattered over his cheeks. He looked like he was in his mid teens, but he already had sideburns coming in. He was… kinda cute.

“Well,” said Grauntie Mabel as she emerged from the kitchen, holding a plate of cookies that sparkled suspiciously. A pink fez with the same shooting star emblem from her bike helmet was now nestled on her head. “I’ll give you the tour, shall I?”

“Sure!” Stanley grabbed two cookies and shoved them into his mouth. Stanford took one in each hand and nibbled on the edge of the one in his left. They were chocolate chip.

Mabel gestured to the front desk. “Kids, this is Danny. He’s working here for the summer.”

The redhead behind the cash raised one finger and didn’t look up from his magazine. “Hey.”

“ _ Maria! _ ” yelled Mabel, inclining her head towards the back.

“Yeah, Ms. Pines?” A woman stuck her head into the room. Her skin was dark, her hair was curly, and her round face had a wide smile.

“Ria, meet my nephews, Stanley and Stanford!”

“Hey, kiddos,” said Ria. “You’re in for an fun summer.”

“That’s Maria, she’s my cleaning lady. She also takes care of the garden and helps me scratch in hard-to-reach places.” She tapped her chin, thoughtfully. “Let’s see, who am I forgetting…?”

There was a loud bang, and another boy stumbled out of the hallway, smoking faintly. His glasses were covered in charcoal.

“Fiddleford,” said Mabel, “meet my nephews! Nephews, this is Fidds, the repairman around these parts.”

Fiddleford took his glasses off and polished them on his t-shirt. He put them back on, blinking owlishly at the twins. He was a little bit taller than them, and his blonde hair was messy and fluffed up.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” said Ford. “I’m Stanford.”

“I’m Stanley!” chipped in Stan. He lunged at his brother and put Ford in a headlock. “We’re  _ twins! _ ”

“ _ Augh! _ ” Ford’s knees buckled, and the two of them flopped to the floor.

Ford blushed bright red and kicked his brother off. Stanley laughed and rolled away.

Mabel chuckled. Fiddleford took a cookie off the plate and bit into it. He made a face.

“Ms. Pines, did you put glitter in these, again?” he asked. He sneezed, and some pink glitter floated to the floor.

“Maybe,” she said with a sly grin. “Sparklines always improves the flavour!”

Ford’s glasses had been knocked off in the scuffle. He squinted, looking around for them. “Does anyone see my glasses?”

“Here.” Fiddleford picked them up and handed them to him.

When Stanford put his glasses back on, he saw that Fiddleford’s eyes were wide. He recognized that look and quickly shoved his hands into his pockets of his jacket.

“I’ve never met anyone who was a polydactyl before,” said Fiddleford. “That’s so cool!”

“It is?” he asked. He pulled his hands from his pockets. “I think it’s weird.”

“Weird is relative,” said Mabel with a grin. “For example, is it weird to dress your pig up in ribbons and pose with him?”

“Yes,” said Fiddleford flatly.

“Nope! Not in the least! Six fingers means that you have two extra fingers to work with. Speaking of that, I put your bags up in the attic.” She gestured through the door, into the house. “You two little scamps can dump your junk up there, but be back down soon! The tourists will be coming in any minute, and this merchandise isn’t going to sell itself!”

Stanley bounced on the balls of his feet. “Sweet!”

Stanford took off first, but Stanley stopped to grab another cookie on the way by. In a creepy old house like this, it was bound to be haunted or have some kind of secret passageway!

The stairs creaked underfoot as the twins thundered up the steps.

They threw the door open and stumbled into the attic room. It was spacious, with two twin beds, a desk on one side of the room, and a large triangular window that looked out over the garden. The twin beds had brand-new quilts on them, but the frames were old and rickety.

“Sweet!” Stanley claimed the bed on the right, flopping down onto it. “Wow, do you think Grauntie Mabel made these?” he asked, poking at the comforters.

Stanford pulled up the corner. “Mabel Pines” was embroidered onto the quilt in tight, neat stitches. “She definitely did.”

“She’s so nice,” said Stanley. “This is gonna be a great summer!”

With a rumble, a tour bus pulled up outside the Mystery Shack. Stan and Ford crowded around the window to peer down at the crowd spilling out of the bus.

“Welcome to Mabel’s Mystery Shack!” said their Grauntie from out on the lawn. “Come and see the wonders within! But first, let me introduce you to…” She pulled a sack out from behind her back. “The magic money sack! Put your money in and it magically disappears!”

The tourists laughed and dropped change and bills into the sack.

Stan grinned. “I like our Grauntie very much.”

Ford laughed. “You should tell her about that time you sold cookies at our school for half price and beat out the girl scouts!”

“Yeah, I should!”

The trees in the backyard rustled. Something red flashed between them.

“Whoa!” said Ford. “Did you see that?”

“I did!” said Stan. “What  _ was  _ that?”

“I dunno.” Ford looked over at his twin and grinned. “Wanna go investigate?”

“And ditch our chores? Duh!”

The two of them scampered outside into the yard. It was a beautiful sunny day in Gravity Falls, and the twins couldn’t wait to see what mysteries they’d discover.

They were about to get a lot more than they bargained for.


	2. The Journal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford finds something in the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the weekend, which means a new chapter!

Grauntie Mabel decided to make breakfast for supper for her two nephews. In the evening, after all of the customers were gone, her employees had punched out, and the sun was setting, she whipped up a batch of pancakes with whipping cream and strawberries.

“Nothing like breakfast for dinner,” she said, flipping a pancake. She wore a lavender bathrobe as she worked, her pink fez still sitting on her head. She’d let her hair down from its bun and it fell down her back like a silver waterfall.

Stanley was wearing his Superman pyjamas. Ford’s were identical, except instead of being patterned with the “S” emblem, they were patterned with Batman’s symbol.

“This looks  _ so  _ good, Grauntie Mabel!” Stanford piled pancakes on his plate, dolloped on whipped cream, and dumped strawberries on top.

Stanley didn’t say anything. He was already eating.

Grauntie Mabel sat at the table and tucked into her pancakes. “So, what were you two ankle-biters doing out in the yard, today?”

Stan swallowed. “We were looking for buried treasure!”

“Or monsters,” said Ford, pointing at her with his fork.

Mabel chuckled. “You won’t find any monsters around here, except for maybe a black bear. There haven’t been any bear warnings lately, but don’t go far from the shack, stick together, and come home before dark. Otherwise…” She poked Stanley in the ribs and made him giggle. “You might end up as somebody’s snack!”

“No way!” Stanley curled a fist and punched the air. “That stupid bear won’t know what hit ‘im!”

“Bears are very fast runners,” said Stanford, tapping his fork against his lower lip. “But they have bad eyesight and rely on their senses of smell, for the most part. If we approached from downwind…”

“See,” said Grauntie Mabel with a chuckle, “all brains, no common sense. I forbid you two from fighting bears, at least not without me present to film it. Do you have any idea what a film of two children fighting a bear would  _ sell  _ for?”

Ford shook his head no and Stan gave a shrug, his mouth once again filled with food.

“No, I’m asking,” she said, grinning. “Never mind about  _ bears. _ How’d that treasure hunt go?”

“We found two crow feathers, a rock that looks like an eye, a weird stick, and six snails,” said Ford.

“Sounds like you kids had a swell time rolling around in the dirt.”

“We did until you called us back inside to sell stuff!” said Stanley.

“Money don’t grow on trees, short stack,” said Grauntie Mabel, cuffing him on the shoulder. “You gotta pay your way, in this town.”

“Grauntie, we’re twelve,” said Stanford.

“I’ve never had more than twenty dollars in my pocket at a time in my entire life,” said Stanley.

“Neither did I, at your age!” she said, barking a laugh. She took another bite of pancakes and wiped her mouth on her wrist. “What do you kids wanna do this summer?”

“Go swimming!” said Stanley.

“Go on hikes!” said Ford.

“Movie nights!”

“Oh, oh! How about we make a fort?”

Mabel laughed. “Your heads are full of ideas, aren’t they?”

“They sure are!” said Ford. He took another bite of pancakes and yawned.

Stanley rubbed his eyes with his fists. “Today was fun.”

“The bus was boring,” said Ford.

“But at least we had the bus to ourselves!”

Grauntie Mabel grinned. “What are you gonna do tomorrow?”

“More treasure hunting!” said Stan. He ate the last bit of pancake and yawned.

“Or just exploring,” said Ford. He licked the syrup from his fork and put it down on the empty plate.

“You can do that after you help out with the gift shop for a few hours,” said Mabel, collecting up the dishes. She stood and dropped them in the sink. “You two have had a long day. Off to bed!”

“Aww!”

“Can’t we stay up a little longer?”

“Nope!” she said cheerily. “Off to bed. You wanna be up and at ‘em bright n’ early, doncha?”

“Race you!” said Stan, jumping off of his chair.

“Hey, no fair!” Ford ran after him, sprinting upstairs.

“Goodnight, kids!” said Grauntie Mabel.

“Night!”

“Goodnight!”

Their voices came from upstairs.

She laughed and sat back down at the table. She pulled her scrapbook close to her and opened it. She glued a photo of the twins into it and wrote at the top of the page “ _ First Day with Great Nephews _ ”.

Mabel smiled, her glitter pen tapping her lower lip.

“ _ I have a good feeling about this summer, _ ” she wrote.

 

“Ford? Psst, Ford?”

“What?” Stanford lifted his head to see Stanley standing above him in the dark.

“I heard something outside,” he whispered. “I went and looked over to the window, and I saw something out in the yard!”

“Really?” Ford sat up and rubbed his eyes. He turned on his light and put on his glasses. “Let’s go check it out!”

Stanley looked outside. He seemed unsure. “But Grauntie Mabel said-”

“It’s a mystery!” said Ford. He grabbed the Hardy Boys novel that sat on his side table and pointed to it. “Mysteries need to be solved!”

“Well, I guess I’d better go with you, then,” said Stan, crossing his arms. “No brother of mine is gonna hit it alone!”

“We’ll have to be quiet,” said Ford. He grabbed his flashlight from his bag. “We don’t wanna wake up Grauntie Mabel.”

“Gotcha!”

The twins tiptoed out of their room and eased down the squeaky wooden steps. They heard their Grauntie’s snoring coming from her room, and the noise faded as they descended down the stairs.

Ford turned on his flashlight as Stanley opened up the front door of the shack. The moon was a thin crescent in the sky and the stars shone brightly.

“Whoa,” said Stan. “I’ve never seen so many stars, before.”

The big dipper shone brightly above them, crystal clear in the night sky. Ford remembered what he’d read about sailors following the stars. He pointed with his flashlight.

“That way is north,” he said.

“How do you know?” asked Stan.

“The north star.” He pointed. “Those stars up there point to the north pole.”

“Cool. Anyway, let’s go check out what I saw!”

The grass was cool and wet under their bare feet. It was a warm night, and a breeze ruffled their messy hair. The trees swayed and rustled in the wind, and an owl hooted in the distance. They could hear sounds from the highway, but it was distant and far away.

Stanley went first as he tiptoed around the house. Ford shone the flashlight ahead so he wouldn’t trip.

“Hey, it’s Grauntie Mabel’s pig!”

Ford peered over Stan’s shoulder. The fat pig was waddling around the garden, munching on the cabbages.

“Get back here!” Stan threw himself at the pig.

With a squeal, Waddles leapt away from Stanley and dashed off into the woods. The trees loomed in the dark, the branches crisscrossing into a maze of greenery.

“I’ll catch ‘im!” Stan scrambled to his feet and took off in pursuit.

“Wait!” hissed Ford. “You’re gonna-”

Stan disappeared into the forest.

“... Get lost…” Ford let out a heavy sigh. He didn’t acknowledge his pounding heart. he took off running after them.

The grass turned to dead leaves and pine needles under his feet. Small branches clawed and scratched at his bare arms. He heard Stanley shouting after waddles. He had to get to him.

A branch swatted him in the face, knocking his glasses askew. He stubbed his toe on a tree root and went sprawling.

_ Clang! _ He crashed into a tree.

Clang? Ford looked up at the tree, fixing his glasses. It looked real enough, but when he put his hand on the bark it felt cool and metallic. He knocked his knuckles against it. A hollow ringing sound echoed through the woods.

There was a branch above him. It looked like… a lever? Ford reached up, standing on tiptoe, and tugged.

_ Ka-Chunk! _

A panel slid open on the ground beside him. In it, there was a small box. It was coated in dust and spider webs, and the cardboard looked like it was on the verge of disintegration. 

Ford knelt down, picked up the box, and opened it.

In the dusty old box there was a book. The cover was blue, and there was a golden big dipper drawn onto it, along with a number “3”.

Ford picked it up and turned it over in his hands. It was hefty, and the paper was old and yellowed. He opened it up.

Somebody’s name had been written on the inside, but it had been torn away.

The first page was covered in tidy script.

_ June 18  _

_ It’s hard to believe that it’s been six years since I’ve begun my research of Gravity Falls, Oregon. In all my travels, I’ve never seen such strange and wonderful things. This town has many secrets, many hidden things, and there is no one you can trust. _

“No one you can trust,” said Ford reverently.

He flipped through the pages. Many photographs and codes were taped to them. Fairies, unicorns, gnomes, zombies, ghosts, and other monsters flitted before his eyes. Was this real? Was  _ this  _ the stuff that they would find in Gravity Falls?

“BOO!”

“ _ Augh! _ ” Ford toppled backwards, holding onto the journal. He grabbed the flashlight and angled it up. His brother grinned at him. “Stan! Don’t do that!”

“I caught the pig!” Stanley had his arms wrapped around Waddles. “Whatcha got there?”

“Um.” Ford clutched the book to his chest.

“C’mon, you’re not gonna show me?” asked Stanley, a little puzzled by Ford’s expression.

He shook himself. Of course he would! “Well, I found this hidey-hole with this old book in it.” He showed him the journal.

Stan glanced on it and huffed. “Looks like nerd stuff. You  _ sure  _ there’s no treasure in there?”

“Positive. It’s a book about monsters,” said Ford, opening it up to a random page.

“Squash with a human face and emotions?” read Stan. “Jeez, I’d hate to be that guy.”

“Me too.” Ford laughed. “We should probably get back inside.”

Stanley ran ahead of him, carrying the pig back to the pen. Ford followed behind him, thumbing through the journal. The pages crackled under his sweaty fingers.

This had to be a joke, none of this stuff sounded real. Mermaids? Floating eyeballs? This had to be made up.

Ford still felt this strange tug in his gut. Something about this felt too  _ real. _ Something told him that this wasn’t made up.

Something told him that he had to be more careful.

He closed the book as he stepped out onto the lawn by the Mystery Shack. Stanley put Waddles back in his pen and closed the gate. He waved Ford over and he trotted after him inside.

At the threshold of the shack, Ford paused and looked down at the book in his hands. The big dipper symbol on the journal shone in the gloom. The real one shone overhead, sparkling against the inky black sky.

Something told him that this was going to be a summer he’d never forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't a beta, yet, so let me know if I made a typo or continuity error!  
> shoot me a kudos if you want more! :D


	3. Pixies and Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley shows up with a strange girlfriend. Ford and Fiddleford stage a rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I changed it from gnomes to pixies to make it a little more interesting. I don't want it to be identical to canon, otherwise what's the point, right?  
> I'll also be skimming over some episodes and adding other situations in their place, so I'm open to suggestions!

Ford watched from his stool behind the cash register as his twin lurked behind the post card rack in the gift shop. Stanley threw a paper airplane, and it coasted gently across the room, landing by the feet of a cute girl looking at Mystery Shack keychains.

Ford caught a glimpse of the paper as the girl unfolded it. It was a list with several checkbox options.

_ Do you wanna smooch me? _

_ Yes. _

_ Definitely! _

_ Absolutely!!! _

Stanley grinned at him from his hiding place.

“ _ I rigged it, _ ” he mouthed.

The piece of paper bounced off his forehead as the girl dashed off to her family.

Ford let out a loud laugh.

“Jee whiz,” said a voice beside him. “I wish I had  _ his  _ gall.”

“Oh!” Ford turned to see Fiddleford standing next to him. “Hi, Fiddleford.”

“Fidds is fine,” he said, setting down his toolbox. His words were slowly spoken, like he was pronouncing each word as carefully as he could. “That boiler sure is a pain.”

“It’s summer, Fidds. We don’t need heat in the house, do we?”

“Ms. Pines gets cold in the upstairs at night,” he said, wiping his oily hands on a rag. He reached under the counter and pulled out a bag of chips. “Cheese Boodle?”

“Sure.” Ford grabbed a handful and shoved them  in his mouth. The dust made his hands orange.

“What brings you to our little town?” asked Fidds.

He swallowed and wiped his mouth on his wrist. “Visiting my Grauntie for the summer, the usual stuff. Like it here?”

“It’s pretty,” he said thoughtfully. “But I reckon… er, I  _ think  _ you might get bored. Not as much to do around here as in the city.”

“Eh, the city’s fine n’ all, but this is a nice change. Say, aren’t you kinda young to be working?”

“It’s just a summer and after school job,” he said with a shrug. “I like building things, and my dad said that if I wanted to keep it up, I’d have to earn my money for parts.”

“Building what kinda things?”

Fiddleford blushed. “Shucks,” he said, slipping into a more southern accent. “I-I mean, jeez. It’s not terribly impressive.”

“I didn’t ask if it was, I asked what you were building?”

“Robots,” he said meekly.

“Whoa! Cool!” Ford’s eyes were as big as saucers. “You should show me, sometime!”

“You don’t think it’s… weird?” he asked tentatively. “Most of my classmates think it’s weird.”

“Ahem.” Ford held up his hands and wiggled his twelve fingers. “I’m the  _ king  _ of weird, Fidds! Weird is awesome.”

Fiddleford laughed. “Golly, it sure is nice to hear that.”

“ _ Hello, gentleman! _ ” Stanley waltzed up to the cash. “Guess who just got a girlfriend?”

“You’ve been gone for three minutes!” said Ford. “How’d you get a girlfriend so fast?”

“With  _ these guns! _ ” Stan flexed a muscle.

Fiddleford turned his laugh into a cough and ate another Cheese Boodle.

Ford didn’t let out a frightened scream at the girl who walked over to Stan. He sure didn’t, definitely not, no matter how scary she might have looked. She was wearing a filthy grey hoodie that kept her face in shadow, her legs seemed weirdly thick, and her hoodie seemed to… squirm?

“Lord almighty!” whispered Fiddleford.

Stan frowned and put an arm around her. “You watch it, punk! Nobody will treat any lady of mine with any disrespect!”

“Who…  _ is  _ that?” asked Ford tentatively.

“I’m… a normal… human…” grunted the girl. Pointed teeth flashed under her hoodie.

“You mean  _ Norma,  _ silly!” said Stan, giving her a playful jostle.

“What’s that red stuff on your hoodie?” asked Ford.

“Uh…” said Norma. “... It’s… Jam.” Her voice sounded strange and tinny.

“... Right…” said Fiddleford.

“Don’t wait up, guys!” Stanley grabbed Norma’s hand and dashed out the door.

“I don’t care for that one bit,” said Fiddleford, arms crossed. When he said that, a southern accent definitely shone through.

“Hmm…” Ford scratched his chin. He remembered something like this written in the journal.

“Cheese Boodle?”

“Thanks.” Ford grabbed another one and popped it in his mouth.

“Sup, nerds?” Danny waltzed back into the room from wherever he was hiding, and shot a look at Fiddleford. “Are those  _ my  _ Boodles?”

Fidds offered a weak smile. “Maybe?”

“Goddamn- Stay out of my snacks, nerd!”

“ESCAPE!” Fiddleford chucked the bag of Boodles at Danny, grabbed Ford by the wrist and ran. Ford laughed as they ran off, towards the front door.

“I’ll get you next time, punk!” shouted Danny, but he clearly didn’t mean it.

“Don’t worry about Dan,” said Fidds. “He’s a nice guy. Kinda rough ‘round the edges, but nice.”

“Let’s hang out upstairs.”

“Sure!” Fiddleford dashed after Ford up the steps. He stopped dead at the doorway, eyes blown wide by the mess spread out before him. “Golly! Y’all have been here for two days,” said Fidds, entering carefully and stepping over piles of clothes and comic books. “How’d it get so  _ messy  _ so darn quick?”

“Twin power,” said Ford with a straight face. “With my brains and Stan’s punching, anything’s possible.”

Fiddleford laughed. He spotted something under the bed that shone gold. “Hey, what’s this?”

Ford tensed when Fiddleford pulled the journal out from under the bed.

“That’s, uh…”

“Looks kinda ancient,” said Fiddleford. He flipped over a few pages, then he gasped. “Hey! Is it just me bein’ fanciful, or does this…” He held up the journal for Ford to see. “... Look a bit like “Norma”?”

“ _ The Undead _ ” was written at the top of the page. Below it, there was a photo of a hunched creature with red splattered down its front. Pointed teeth peered from beneath its hood.

Ford read the words below the photo. “ _ Known for their pale skin and bad attitudes, these creatures are often mistaken for… teenagers! _ Holy cow, Fidds! You’re right!”

“Where’d you find this book, anyhow?”

“In the woods,” said Ford. 

“Of course,” said Fidds. “Nowhere normal like, say, a  _ library. _ ”

“I stumbled upon it, literally.” Ford walked over to the window and peered down at the garden. Fidds came and stood beside him.

Stanley and Norma were standing in the back yard. Stan laughed at his own joke and punched Norma in the shoulder.

_ Her hand fell off! _

She picked it up and stuck it back on. With that, she grabbed Stanley and the two of them ran off into the woods.

Ford shrieked. “ _ Augh! _ Fidds, she’s a zombie! We gotta  _ do  _ something!”

Fidds snapped his fingers. “I have an idea!”

Ford tucked the journal into his jacket and followed Fiddleford down the stairs.

“Danny!” Fiddleford dashed into the giftshop, upsetting the postcard stand. “We need the keys to the golf cart!”

Danny glanced up from his magazine. “Underage kids driving? I’m always down for that!” He grabbed the keys from under the counter and tossed them to him. “Knock yourselves out, dudes.”

Fiddleford gave him a thumbs up. “You’re the best, Danny!”

“Don’t I know it.”

The two of them dashed out into the yard. Maria was tending to the garden, turning over topsoil.

“What’s up, dudes?” she said, leaning on her shovel.

“Maria, where’s the golf cart?” asked Fiddleford. “We need to go rescue Stanley from a zombie!”

“Hah! Sounds exciting. The cart’s parked by Ms. Pine’s bike.” She looked at the shovel she held in her hand. “Here, take this for the zombies.” She tossed the shovel to Fidds. She tossed a garden hoe at Ford. “Take this in case you need to hack up some weeds.”

“Uh, thanks,” said Ford. The hoe looked like it could do serious damage, so he kept it.

She thumbed her baseball cap. “Anytime, dudes. Go rescue Stan!”

Ford and Fiddleford whooped as they dashed off to the golf cart.

“Where do you think they went?” asked Ford as he climbed into the passenger side.

“Same place all teenagers go ‘round here,” said Fiddleford. He turned the key in the engine and it sputtered to life. “To makeout point.”

“ _ What?  _ Ew!”

“Exactly, we’d better hurry.” Fiddleford cranked the wheel and the golf cart took off.

Ford white-knuckled his garden hoe.  _ I’m coming for you, Stanley! _

 

“Jee, this sure is romantic!” Stanley gave a little spin and stopped at the edge of the cliff. “What an amazing view!”

All of Gravity Falls was laid out before them. The buildings and trees looked like models from Stan and Ford’s playset, and the river looked like a blue snake. On the other side of the valley, the abandoned train tracks stretched across the gap between the cliffs. They could faintly hear the roar of the falls from half a mile away.

“It… sure is… pretty…” grunted Norma.

Stan sighed and sat down on a log, kicking his legs back and forth. “Today has been so much fun! It was lucky I met you by the cemetery, huh?”

“It… sure… was… Stanley… I want to… show you something…”

Stan blushed. “Oh, wow! What is it?”

“It’s this…” She unzipped her hoodie.

“Oh, man! I-”

The hoodie dropped to the ground. A cloud of pixies and sprites clung together, their tiny wings thrashing, and it was like the old “two kids and a trenchcoat” trick (which Ford and Stan  _ may  _ have tried to pull off at one point).

“Is this weird?” asked the pixie on top of the pile. She was a strange shade of orange and had tiny beetle wings. “Be honest with us, is this weird?”

Stan was speechless.

 

The golf cart skidded to a halt. Ford leapt from the cart, hoe at the ready.

“They’re not here,” said Fidds. He pointed with his shovel. “Hey, what’s that?”

Ford dashed over to the grey lump on the ground. “It’s Norma’s hoodie!” He scanned the ground. His heart sank when he saw…

“Are those drag marks?” asked Fidds.

“Going that way!” Ford pointed into the woods.

“Hop in, Ford! We got ourselves a twin to save!”

The golf cart was not intended to go off road, as evidence by the complete lack of shocks as they barrelled through the woods.

“We’re coming, Stan!” shouted Ford, brandishing his garden hoe.

Fiddleford just let out a loud, screeching war-cry.

 

“Get  _ off  _ of me you flying freaks!” Stanley kicked and squirmed, his feet dragging on the ground as the pixies pulled him into the woods.

“Just say you’ll marry us and be our king!” said the orange leader pixie, who was named Jeanie.

“NO! I’m not  _ crazy, _ do you know how insane this is?”

Stan was dumped unceremoniously onto the ground.

“Marry us!” said Jeanie, brandishing her tiny fists.

“Or what?” challenged Stan.

She bared her tiny teeth. “Or  _ else! _ ”

_ Beep! Beep! _

With a squeal of spinning tires, the golf cart pulled up next to Stanley. Ford leapt out and swung the garden hoe wildly, slicing right through the flock of pixies and scattering them. Fidds followed on his heels, gripped his shovel like a baseball bat, and sent Jeanie flying off into the bushes.

“C’mon!” Fiddleford leapt back into the cart. Ford climbed into the back and Stan took shotgun.

“What in the blazes happened?” asked Fidds as the cart whipped around, barrelling out of the woods.

“She’s… they’re… pixies!”

“Pixies! Well, I never!”

“I know!” said Stan. “I wouldn’t have  _ minded,  _ except they started going on about me becoming their king and marrying them, and I’m more of a “date first, marry later” kinda guy, y’know?”

The golf cart’s tires spun as they caromed out of the forest, back onto the road. “Not to mention that sounds like polygamy.”

“Poly-gamey?”

“No, it-”

Ford turned and looked behind them. The colour drained from his face. “Fidds, step on it!”

“What?”

All three of them stared up at the multicoloured cloud approaching them.

Fiddleford let out a less than manly scream.

“ _ Eyes on the road, Fiddlenerd! _ ” yelled Stanley, grabbing the shovel from him. He swung it and swatted two pixies out of the air at once.

Ford flipped through the journal as fast as his sweaty fingers let him. He found the page on pixies.

_ Weaknesses: ???? _

Not promising.

“ _ AUGH! _ ” two pixies had seized Stan by the ears and were trying to drag him out of the cart as they sped down the dirt road, back to the shack. “ _ GUYS! DO SOMETHING! _ ”

“Hang on, Stan!” Fiddleford reared back and punched. The pixies skirted out of the way, and he slammed his knuckles right into Stan’s cheek.

“OW! My eye!”

“Augh! I’m sorry!”

Ford grabbed the garden hoe and took out three more pixies, but the swarm was getting closer and closer. It buzzed like a million hummingbirds. Tiny hands latched onto the golf cart, more and more clinging to it as they sped along. The Mystery Shack was almost in sight at the end of the road.

The wheels of the cart left the ground.

“JUMP!” cried Ford.

The three of them leapt from the golf cart and kept running. The cart was tossed away and flopped onto its side, but soon the pixies were in pursuit. Fiddleford was taller and overtook the twins with his long legs, his shovel still in hand. Stanford still had his garden hoe and book, so he lagged behind the other two just a bit. Their legs burned, and soon they were in the garden of the Mystery Shack.

Nobody was in the yard. They tried to run to the front door, but the cloud swarmed around them, cornering them against the side house.

“Stanley!” called Jeanie, who had somewhat recovered from her encounter with Fidds’ shovel. Her flight pattern was a little crooked, and one of her wings was damaged. “Stanley, it doesn’t have to be this way!”

They were backed up against the wall. The garden hose lay at their feet.

Stanley gritted his teeth and hissed to ford. “I have an idea. Trust me.”

“What?”

“Okay!” he said, louder. “I’ll marry you!”

“What?” cried Ford.

Fiddleford slapped his hand to his forehead. “Stanley, dangummit! What did we just rescue ya fer?”

Stan slyly backed up against the house. The faucet let out a tiny squeak as he turned it on. “You heard me, Jeanie. I’ll marry you.”

“Well, then,” said Jeanie, sounding pleased as pie. ‘I suppose you’ll have to kiss your future bride!”

“Eugh,” said Ford, wrinkling his nose.

“Gross!” said Fiddleford, hands pressed to his eyes under his glasses. “I can’t look!”

Stanley winked at Ford and pointed subtly to the garden hose that was soaking his shoes.

Jeanie closed his eyes and leaned in to press a kiss to Stan’s grubby cheek.

It clicked in Ford’s head. He grabbed the hose, clicked the nozzle to “jet”, and shot a spray of water over Jeanie and Stan.

The pixie was flung off into the trees with the force of the spray, screaming shrilly as it went.

“Oh no!” said one of the pixies.

“Who will lead us, now?” wailed another one.

They scattered, all of them flying off into different directions, screaming and shrieking as they went. They bumped into the shack, whacked into trees, and flew away down the road in uncoordinated zig-zags.

“Good aim, poindexter!” Stan was grinning, and he was sopping wet.

Fiddleford laughed. “That was incredible! I reckon I haven’t had a good time like that in  _ forever! _ ”

Stanford pulled out the journal and a pen. On the page about pixies, he wrote “GARDEN HOSE” in capital letters under “weaknesses”.

“Pines! Pines! Pines!” chanted Stanley, punching his fist in the air. He pulled off his wet t-shirt, rolled it into a whip, and snapped Ford on the butt.

“OW! Hey, wait! Fidds isn’t a Pines,” said Ford. He balled up the journal in his jacket and put it safely away on the porch, away from the water. “He’s half the reason you aren’t married to a bunch’a pixies, now!”

“True,” said Fiddleford. “I deserve at least sixty percent of the credit!” He spluttered when Stanley turned the hose on him.

“We’re not a dynamic duo, anymore,” said Stan, grinning ear to ear. “More like… a trio! A mystery trio!”

“You guys mean it?” asked Fidds, pulling off his shirt. He rolled it into a whip and snapped Ford as Stanley doused him with the hose.

“A hundred percent!” said Ford, turning his own shirt into a weapon. He snapped Stan on the arm and Fidds on the back.

“Hey!”

“OW!”

“Mystery Trio!” cried Ford.

“Mystery Trio! Mystery Trio!” The three of them chanted. They soaked each other with hose, wrestled in the mud, and used their shirts as whips. By the end of it, they were completely drenched the bone from the hose, and they were covered in red marks from snapping their t-shirts at each other, and their sides hurt from laughing.

And what do you know, the name stuck and the Mystery Trio was born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know if I made any mistakes etc. I'm also open to suggestions.


	4. Marionette Madness pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A secret room in the shack is full of old puppets. Stan make a new addition to the collection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: Yeah, I skipped Legend of the Gobblewonker. I'm gonna squish it in with the pool episode, later.  
> 2: Marionettes are infinitely more creepy to me, plus it's a throwaway to sock opera.  
> 3: I wanted shorter chapters, so it's a part 1 and part 2!

“Hey, dudes! Come check this out!”

The twins and Fiddleford dashed over to where Maria was standing. She had a feather-duster in one hand and a letter opener in the other.

“I found a secret door!” Maria knocked on part of the wall. It sounded hollow. “It must’a gotten papered over the last time the house was renovated. I thought you dudes might wanna be around when I open it up!”

“That’s awesome!” said Stanley. “Let’s see what we find!”

Maria slit the wallpaper, found a handhold, and opened up the door.

“Whoa!” Stanley ran in. “Check it out!”

One half of the room was filled with mechanical and electrical parts, all ancient and from the 1980s at least, the other half was filled with puppets and marionettes. There was a broken photocopier in one corner, a blue rug rolled up and propped against the wall, and a shelf covered in curios like a strange crystal pyramid, a globe, a jar full of keys, and some dusty old books. 

“This is weird,” said Ford. He did  _ not  _ care for the marionettes, not one bit. Their glazed-over eyes seemed to stare at him, no matter where he stood.

“This is cool!” said Fiddleford. He ran over to the mechanical parts and started analyzing them. He picked up a small box with wires protruding from it and gave it a little shake. Something rattled inside it.

“Hey! Look! I’m a puppet!” Somehow, Stan had managed to get his arms and legs tangled in the marionette strings.

Stanford burst into laughter while Maria set about untangling him from the strings. Fiddleford pocketed the strange box.

“What’s this tomfoolery I hear?” Grauntie Mabel was still wearing her pink bathrobe. “Whoa! I forgot all about this room.”

“Grauntie, why do you have so many puppets?” asked Stanley. One of his legs was free, thanks to Maria’s pocketknife.

“Hmm…” She scratched under her fez. “Can’t recall… oh, wait! I think it had something to do with a hair-brained scheme to get a puppeteer to like me? So I got all these marionettes, was gonna put on a show… then I saw him making out with his puppets.” She let out a whistle. “Dodged a bullet on that one, to be honest.”

“Ms. Pines,” said Fiddleford. “I reckon that these are the creepiest things I ever laid eyes upon.”

“They give me the heebie-jeebies,” said Stanford with a small shudder.

“I think they’re cool!” Stanley let out a grunt when he fell to the floor. “Grauntie! I have an idea!”

“What is it, kiddo?” she asked, hands on her hips.

“We should put up the puppets as a display for the mystery shack! Think of how cool that would be!”

Grauntie Mabel clicked her tongue, prodding at one of the puppets. Its wooden limbs clacked together. “I dunno, Stanford. These guys have seen better days.”

“I’m Stanley! We could fix ‘em up, and even better, I could make a new one!”

“Hmm…” Mabel scratched her chin. “Could be a fun little project, might draw in a bigger crowd… heh, sure! Let’s do it!”

Stanley let out a cheer. “Woohoo! I’m gonna come up with the  _ coolest puppet ever! _ ” He dashed from the room to get his notebook and pencil crayons.

Grauntie Mabel adjusted her fez. “Well, this work ain’t gonna do itself! Maria, you’re gonna untangle them. Fidds, you’re gonna fix them. Stanford, some of them need a new paint job.  _ Danny! _ ” she called into the shop.

“ _ What? _ ” he called back.

“Make room in the shop!” She grinned, her gold tooth showing prominently. “We’re gonna have a marionette display!”

 

“Maybe a dolphin with mouths for hands? I could call him Aoshima! Actually… nah.” Stan scribbled out the drawing. He crumpled it up and tossed it onto the growing discard pile.

Stanford stood at the doorway, holding a paint bucket and brush. “What’s the problem, brother ‘o mine?”

“Hi, Ford.” Stan sighed dramatically. “Why can’t I think of a puppet? It should be easy!”

“Have you tried drawing inspiration from real life?” Ford struck a pose, paint bucket under his arms, his lips pursed.

Stan snorted. “I’m not making a puppet from  _ you. _ That’s lame.”

“Your words hurt.”

“Hey, kids.” Grauntie Mabel stepped into the TV room and stretched out her back, popping the old joints. She put one foot up on the stool and scanned the room, her hand shading her eyes. “Have you seen my girdle?”

Stanley’s eyes lit up at the sight. He grinned. “Nope, but I’ve found my inspiration!”

 

Chairs were put out on the lawn in rows. It was an odd assortment of kitchen chairs, lawn chairs, the sofa, some stools, and a few cardboard boxes. Ford sat in the front row next to Danny and Maria. The crowd was starting to fill up the seats, chatting together while things were sorted out on stage.

“I’m surprised this many people showed up,” said Ford.

“I wonder how many of them were bribed,” said Danny.

“I was.” Ford held up his one dollar bill.

“Me too!” Danny held up a five.

“Hey, how come you got more?”

“Ms. Pines appreciates haggling. I started at ten, she started at one. We met in the middle.”

Ford nodded understandingly. “Ah, compromises. In the end, nobody’s happy!”

Danny touched his nose. “Exactly.”

“Ladies and gentleman!” Grauntie Mabel stood up on stage with a mic in her hand. “Thank you all for coming out! Today is the opening day of our temporary exhibit, the Mystery Shack Marionette Palace! Come inside and see the wondrous puppet-sonas of Angelina Jolie, Joan of Arc, President Nixon, Madame Curie, and more! And now, I present to you the creator of our best, most beautiful, and newest marionette,  _ Stan-Le _ onardo!”

Stanley dashed out onstage, wearing a huge grin. He took the mic and cleared his throat. “Wow! What a turnout!”

He paused. Somebody coughed.

“Wanna hear a joke?”

Ford put his hands over his eyes. “ _ No! _ ”

“Of course you do, here it goes. What do you call a boomerang that doesn’t work?”

He paused again. Ford let out a heavy sigh.

“A stick! Haha!”

A few people groaned.

“Alright, let’s get to the point,” said Stan. “Fidds! Unveil my masterpiece!”

Fiddleford hummed a little ditty as he dramatically whipped the sheet off of the marionette. He did jazz hands as he slowly tiptoed off the stage, strongly disliking the eyes of the crowd upon him.

It was the first time Grauntie Mabel had seen it. She grinned and wiped away a tear. “It’s beautiful!”

It was a duplicate of herself. Pink fez, blue blazer, silver hair, librarian glasses. It was adorable, yet terrifying at the same time. Its grin was manic, and its gold tooth shone in the summer sun.

“Meet Marionette Mabel!” said Stanley with a grand gesture. “I worked all day on her! It’s covered in my blood, sweat, tears, and other fluids.”

There were some murmurs of disgust from the crowd.

A hand waved from the crowd. “I have a question!”

It was an elderly woman. She wore no shoes and had on a tattered straw hat. “Candy Chiu here, local kook! Are the puppets real, and if so, can we survive the marionette uprising?”

“Yes!” said Stanley without hesitation. 

Another elderly woman put her hand on “Crazy” Candy’s arm. “Sit down, sweetheart.” Her voice was deep and gruff, and her apron was stained.

“Good to see you two, Grenda,” said Grauntie Mabel. “How are things?”

Grenda gave a smile. “Can’t complain. Knitting night is on Friday. Drop by, won’t you?”

“Sure!”

“Next question!” said Stanley.

A man in a bowler hat stood up, holding up a microphone. “This is Thompson from the Gravity Falls Gossiper! What inspired the marionettes?”

Stanley tilted his head. “Is that a hairbrush?”

“Oh.” Thompson looked at the hairbrush he held, surprised. “I guess so.”

“Tambry Valentino, a real reporter,” said a woman in a suit with thick eyeliner. “We were promised free cookies if we attended.”

“On the back table!” said Grauntie Mabel.

When the crowd turned to look, she tossed down a glitter bomb and ran back into the house, cackling madly.

 

Grauntie Mabel doted upon the puppet. It sat next to her while she did the Mystery Shack Marionette tour, while she cooked dinner, and while she watched TV and ate cookies. She talked to it and told it stories, and about how her nephews were visiting. It was heartwarming, albeit a little odd.

Ford couldn’t quite figure out why she’d taken off the glasses and replaced the fez with one of the trucker caps from the gift shop.

“I have to say, Stanley,” said Grauntie Mabel as she passed by in the kitchen. “Nothing beats the company of a marionette that looks exactly like you and has cold, dead, lifeless eyes! It’s a real treat.”

“Aw, shucks!” Stanley grinned. “It’s my pleasure! You’re the best Grauntie in the whole wide world!”

She ruffled his hair as she went back into the TV room. When she arrived, she let out a shriek of horror.

Ford and Stan dashed into the room.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ford.

“Is somebody dead?” asked Stan.

“It’s Marionette Mabel!” cried their Grauntie. “She’s been m-m-murdered!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Shoot me a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it! Also, tell me if I made an error or have a suggestion.


	5. Marionette Madness pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solving the murder of Marionette Mabel!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be prepared: it's twice as long as I was expecting.

“How could this have happened?” asked Stan, his voice cracking. His eyes seemed watery.

Ford stared at him. “Dude, are you crying over a puppet?”

“No! I’m allergic to dumb questions!” He wiped his eyes on his wrist and squared up his shoulders.

“Don’t judge!” said Grauntie Mabel sharply. She was tearful, too.

Stanford huffed out a sigh. He kneeled next to the broken and splintered marionette. It was bashed and battered with deep slashes in the wood. “What could have caused this damage?”

“Hey, look!” Stan dragged an axe out from behind the chair. “I found the murder weapon!”

“It has paint and wood splinters on it,” said Ford, running his fingers along the edge of the axe. “This was definitely the murder weapon. The big question is, how did the person get in and out so fast? Why didn’t we hear the front door open?” Ford scratched his head. “Seems like a real mystery. We need to narrow down the suspects.”

“Let’s call Fiddlenerd!” said Stan. “He knows lots of people! Maybe he knows who’d wanna do something like this!”

“Good idea!” Ford dashed into the kitchen, picked up the ancient rotary phone, and dialled the McGucket house.

The voice that answered was  _ definitely  _ not Fiddleford. The man definitely had the same southern accent, however. “ _ Hello? _ ”

“Um, hi. This is Stanford Pines. Is Fiddleford home?”

“ _ Son! Come to the phone! _ ”

There was some rustling as the phone was passed to Fiddleford.

“ _ Hello? _ ”

“Hi, Fidds! It’s Ford.”

“ _ Ford? Hi. What’s up? _ ”

“Marionette Mabel has been murdered! We found this axe next to the destroyed puppet, but that’s our only lead. Stan and I are gonna try solve this mystery, but we have no idea where to start.”

“ _ An axe? Hm, I guess we could start with Womanly Wendy. She runs the mill. _ ”

“Great! Come on over, we could go investigate!”

“ _Sure! I’ll be over in ten minutes._ _Can you make fake IDs?_ ”

“Uh… why?”

“ _ Make three. She’s gonna be at Skull Fracture. _ ”

 

“Sorry, we don’t serve miners.”

The man hefted the pickaxe over his shoulder and stomped away into the night, grumbling under his breath. 

Stan, Ford, and Fiddleford shuffled up to the bouncer of the Skull Fracture. Stan tried to puff his chest out and look big and tough, but Ford and Fidds hung back, trying not to look too awkward and failing.

The bouncer crossed his arms. “I’m gonna need some ID.”

“Here!” Stan passed him three fake ID cards that he had made. They were covered in spaceship stickers.

“Hm…” The bouncer looked them over carefully. “You seem good to go, Mister…” He squinted at Stan’s fake ID. “McLovin. Enjoy.” He handed the cards back to the kids.

“I’m shocked that worked,” said Ford as they pushed the door open.

“Laws are lax in these parts,” said Fiddleford. “It’s still legal to marry woodpeckers. Anyhow, you’ll be wanting Wendy. She’s over there.” He pointed across the room.

Ford spotted a red headed woman at a table in the back. She was wearing green flannel and had enormous biceps. She was arm wrestling a man twice her size.

With a roar, she slammed his fist down on the table.

“I like her,” said Stan.

“Let’s go talk to her,” said Ford. He grabbed Fiddleford’s wrist. “Stan, keep a lookout. Make a loon call if you see any cops.”

“Aye-aye!” He did a mock salute. He hopped up onto a bar stool, slapped two dollars onto the bar and said, “Orange juice on the rocks, if you please!”

The bartender gave him a wary look, but took the two bills and poured him some juice.

“Aren’t you a little young to be here, kid?” asked the guy next to him on the bar. He was big, had dark, curly hair, and his knuckles had the word “COBRA” tattooed across them.

“No,” he said. He pulled a pack of cards out of his pocket. “Wanna see a card trick?”

 

Fiddleford tapped Wendy on the shoulder. “Um, excuse me?”

“What?” she turned to face them, her face set in a scowl. “What are two pipsqueaks like you doing here?”

“Solving a murder mystery,” said Ford. He hefted up the axe he’d dragged from the house. “Is this yours?”

“Are you accusing me of murder?” she asked.

“Puppet murder,” clarified Fiddleford. “Not actual real murder with real blood and human death. Marionette Mabel was destroyed, ma’am. The assailant is still unknown, and the axe is our only lead!”

“It wasn’t me!” said Wendy. “Besides, this axe is left-handed. I’m right handed! HUH!” She threw her fist out and cuffed the guy she’d been arm-wrestling in the jaw.

A fight broke out. A bar stool was smashed against the wall, and everybody was punching and kicking at each other, with Womanly Wendy right in the thick of it. Ford and Fidds stumbled out of the way, running out of the bar.

“Come on, Stan!” Ford grabbed his brother by the wrist and the three of them sprinted outside.

“My cards!” whined Stan as his playing cards scattered across the bar.

“ _ How does the trick end? _ ” cried the man he’d been talking to.

They were already out the door.

 

By the next morning, Ford had a list.

“Here’s a list of all of potential suspects,” said Ford, passing his notepad over to Fiddleford and Stan. “We have to visit all of these people, and when we find out who’s left-handed, then we have our killer!”

“This is a long list,” said Fiddleford, scratching his nose under his glasses. “It’s gonna take a while.”

“Well, we’ve got legs. We can walk.” 

They trotted into the gift shop and stopped short when they saw the police standing in the entryway.

“For the  _ last time,  _ Ms. Pines, there’s not enough evidence to investigate the murder of your marionette,” said Sheriff Nate.

“Come on,” said Grauntie Mabel, leaning on her 8-ball cane. “I even gave you guys cookies!”

“That was your mistake,” said Sheriff Nate. He wiped some crumbs off of his cheek. “Give it up, Ms. Mystery. This case is unsolvable!”

“Says you!” cried Ford. He waved his list. “We have a list of suspects, and we’re going to solve this case!”

Deputy Lee snickered. “As if a couple of twelve-year-olds can solve this!”

“I’m thirteen,” mumbled Fiddleford.

“We’re gonna solve it by tonight!” declared Ford. “C’mon, guys! Let’s get hunting!”

“Murderer hunt! Murderer hunt!” Stanley ran after Ford and Fiddleford as they left the gift shop.

“Avenge me, kids!” shouted Grauntie Mabel as they ran out. “ _ Avenge me! _ ”

 

It was after lunch by the time they finished their list. They’d asked Candy Chiu, Grenda, Tambry Valentino, the “I love cookies” guy who had a t-shirt that declared this love, half a dozen teenagers, and the milkman. None of them were left-handed.

There was only one suspect left.

Ford knocked on the door of the Gravity Falls Gossiper office. Thompson opened up the door.

“This is our last suspect,” said Ford through his teeth to his fellow conspirators. “It  _ has  _ to be him.”

“Can I help you?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Can you sign this?” asked Ford, holding out the notepad. It was covered in signatures collected from the other people they’d investigated. “Stan’s making an art project.”

“A signature collage!” he said.

“For charity,” added Fiddleford.

“Well, sure!” said Thompson enthusiastically. “It’s always a pleasure to help out some kids. What charity is that?” He took the pen Ford offered him.

With his left hand.

“MURDERER!” screeched Stan, pointing dramatically.

Ford slugged him in the shoulder. “Shut up!”

“M-murder?” stammered Thompson. “What? No!”

“You’re left-handed!” declared Fiddleford. “You own a left-handed axe! You destroyed Marionette Mabel!”

“You’ve got the wrong guy!”

“It all makes sense,” said Ford, taking his pen back. “The Marionette Palace was going to be your big break for the news station! When it turned out to be a flop, you  _ took out  _ the very thing that ruined your week!”

“ _ Kablam! _ ” Stan slammed his fist against a tree, shaking out the leaves.

“I didn’t do anything!” Thompson protested. “I’m innocent!”

“Tell that to the cops, bub!” said Stan.

The police car pulled up and rolled down the window.

“Is there a problem, here?” asked Deputy Lee, lowering his sunglasses to peer at the scene before him.

“They’re accusing me of marionette murder!” said Thompson.

“That’s a very serious accusation,” said Deputy Lee, scratching at his jaw. “Five years jail time.”

“I’m innocent!” said Thompson. “I can prove it!”

“Oh, really?” said Sheriff Nate. “I’m sure we’d all like to see your alibi.”

“Come in, come in! I can prove it!”

The five of them were rushed into the news station. It was barren, except for a coffee table, an overstuffed sofa, a desk covered in papers, and a dead fern. There was also a camera in the top corner of the room and a TV display behind the desk.

“Here,” said Thompson, sitting at his computer. “When was the murder committed?”

“Six o’clock, yesterday night.”

He scrolled through the tapes and pulled up some video footage that the security camera had taken the night before.

“ _ Now that I’m alone, _ ” said Thompson onscreen. “ _ I can finally eat this waffle I’ve been saving! It’s not every day you find a run-over waffle on the road that still maintains its waffle-y goodness! _ ”

“Um, ew,” said Fiddleford, wrinkling his nose.

“This abomination against nature is timestamped,” said Sheriff Nate. “This event is burned into our brains forever, and there’s no cure for it. That’s that.”

“B-but it has to be him!” said Ford. He took out the axe. “Here! Dust it for fingerprints!”

“Ain’t no fingerprints on there except yours,” said the Sheriff, squinting at it.

“No fingerprints? But that’s impossible!”

“Maybe he was wearing gloves,” said Fiddleford.

The Deputy laughed. “Face it, kids. This murder is  _ unsolvable. _ ”

“Maybe you’re right,” said Ford. He put the axe back in his bag and crossed off Thompson from his suspects list. 

The three of them shuffled out the door and started the long walk back home. It was a hot and sunny day. Their stomachs growled, reminding them that they hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

Stan’s mood didn’t seem too dampened by this downturn. He was still enjoying the weather and the fact that they had no responsibilities that day. “Hey Fiddlenerd, wanna come over for dinner? Grauntie Mabel is making spaghetti.”

Fiddleford perked up at the mention of food. “Sure! Sounds peachy!”

“Heck, how about you stay the night!” said Stan, punching him in the shoulder. “Poindexter over here could use some cheering up.”

“I’ll have to ask my Pa,” said Fiddleford. “But he’s just happy I have someone to hang out with, this summer.”

“C’mon, Sixer,” said Stan, punching his brother in the shoulder. “So what if we didn’t catch the bad guy? We still had a fun day out in the sun!”

Ford tucked the notebook away into his pocket. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

 

“Fort Mystery Trio” was constructed from two beds, two chairs, three blankets, and five pillows. Stanford had one half to himself because he kicked in his sleep, and the other half was shared by Ford and Fidds.

“Who wants to hear a ghost story?” asked Stan with a grin.

“Sure,” said Ford. It was late at night, and after watching two movies and reading five comic books between them, he could use one of Stan’s stories. He pulled the bowl of popcorn closer.

Fiddleford bit his lip. “I dunno. I don’t like scary stories, much.”

“What, are you a chicken?” asked Stan. He stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed hard.

“Stan, don’t be mean,” said Ford.

Stan make clucking noises with his tongue and folded his arms under his armpits to make “wings”. “Chicken!”

“I-I ain’t no chicken!” said Fiddleford, his face red. “Tell your dumb story!”

“Alrighty!” Stan grabbed the flashlight and held it under his chin. “Once, there were two teenagers, just a little bit older than us. They were on a date.” He wiggled his fingers. “Woooo!”

“That’s not scary,” said Ford. “That’s dumb.”

“Hey, who’s telling the story, you or me? Anyway, these two teenagers got into their car and drove up to makeout point. It was remote and desolate, the town was at least thirty miles away. While they were there, they turned on the radio.” Stan coughed and did his best imitation of the radio host. “ _ Our top news story for tonight is the breakout at the insane asylum! Only one inmate escaped, one Jeff H. Holmes, who is responsible for the gruesome and bloody deaths of thirteen people! He is described as being six foot tall, thirty years old, and has a hook for a hand! _ ”

Fiddleford grabbed his pillow and hugged it, his eyes peeking over the top edge.

“You scared?” teased Stan.

“No!”

“Suit yourself! Anyhow, these two teens got up to makeout point, and they were doing their thing, y’know. Lockin’ lips. The guy had his hand up the back of the girl’s shirt and it was just going great!”

Ford tossed a piece of popcorn at him. “Ew, Stan! Nonessential part!”

“It’s totally essential! It sets the  _ scene!  _ Anyway, the radio was talking about this news story, and the girl started to get freaked out, right? Her name was Mary, and she said to her boyfriend, “ _ Paul, let’s get outta here! The asylum’s real close by, we don’t wanna get killed or nothin’ _ ”!”

Ford snickered. “Why does Mary sound like she has strep throat?”

“Because I’m no good at girl voices, shut up! Anyhow, Paul said that it would be okay, they could stay there for a while. They started kissing again, then… they heard it!”

“H-heard what?” stuttered Fiddleford.

“A scratching noise,” said Stan with a wicked grin. “A long, scraping, scratching noise scraped along the back of their car.  _ Kreeeeeee! _ ”

Something thumped below them.

“What was that?” asked Fidds with a squeak.

“Eh, probably Waddles banging against the house. Where was I? Oh yeah! So Mary started to freak out at the noise. “ _ Paul, we should get outta here! _ ” Now, Paul wasn’t so sure about all this, and  _ he  _ started to get scared. He didn’t wanna show it or nothin’ and said it was just a tree branch, but he started the engine just in case. Then, they heard the sound again. A long, loud scrape against the other side of the car.  _ Kreeeeeee! _ ” Stan scraped his fingernails against the floor.

Ford glanced over at his friend. “You okay, Fidds?”

Fiddleford’s face was hidden by his pillow. “F-fine.”

“We can stop if you want,” said Stan. “Chicken!”

He peeked up and glared at Stanley. “F-finish the story!”

“Alright. So, now both of the teenagers were  _ real  _ freaked out. Paul was ready to get the heck outta there and go to the movies. It was quiet for a few minutes… then, all of a sudden…  _ the door handle rattled! _ ”

There was a scraping sound coming from below them.

“Rats,” said Stan, waving off the frightened looks on the other’s faces. “I heard ‘em two nights ago. Anyway, Paul got  _ real  _ freaked out, slammed his foot on the gas, and zoomed right outta there! They drove all the ways back into town without stopping. It wasn’t until they got to Paul’s house until they noticed it.”

“Noticed what?” asked Fiddleford softly, still clutching his pillow.

“They got out of the car,” said Stan breathlessly, his eyes wide. “They walked around to the other side… and hanging from the handle…  _ was a hook! _ ”

_ BANG! _

The three of them squealed.

“What was that?” asked Ford.

“No idea!” said Stan. 

“It came from below us!”

“Let’s check it out!”

“Uh… Fidds? Are you okay?”

Fiddleford had buried himself in his sleeping bag. “I’m just dandy.” His voice was muffled by the blankets.

“You wanna come?”

“Do you wanna get  _ killed? _ ” squawked Fiddleford.

“I value adventure over my own life,” said Stan cheerily. “Ford and I are gonna look. You can stay here, if you want?”

“By myself?” he asked shrilly. “After that story? No way, jose!”

Ford grabbed the flashlight. “Alright, Mystery Trio! Let’s go investigate the weird noise.”

The three of them tiptoed down the creaky stairs. The creaks sounded as loud as firecrackers to them. The wind blew outside, rattling the little house. Dawn was just breaking, and the blueish light shone through the glass on the front door. 

As they descended, they heard voices… coming from the Marionette room.

“ _ Someone’s in the house! _ ” whispered Stan.

Fiddleford chewed on his nails as he followed behind the twins. They were outside of the room, now. A soft golden glow shone out into the hallway.

Stan cracked his knuckles. “We’ll run in on the count of three!”

“Okay!” said Ford, holding his flashlight in two hands.

“B-but they’re adults,” said Fidds. “We can’t take them on!”

“ _ Three! _ ”

Stan and Ford burst into the room with a war cry.

The marionettes turned to them.

Ford’s eyes were huge behind his glasses. “The puppets! They’re  _ alive! _ ”

“Quite,” said Madame Curie puppet. She walked over to the three of them. Her wooden feet clacked on the floor. “Who are you?”

“We’re the Mystery Trio!” declared Stan. “How come you can talk?”

Madame Curie rubbed her little wooden hands together. “Ahh, that’s a long story. A while ago, your Grauntie Mabel wanted to put on a puppet show to woo a puppeteer who’d rolled into town. But alas! She finished us on a blue moon… and we were  _ cursed! _ ”

“Ooh,” said Ford, not able to help himself.

“Cursed?” said Fiddleford in a strangely high voice.

Marionette Curie took another step towards them, her strings dragging behind her. “Yes, cursed! We are cursed to remain motionless by day, yet we rule the night! At least we  _ did  _ until your Grauntie Mabel sealed us up in here! It was a charmed life for a puppet before that. Now, it’s just dust and ruin! We tried to exact  _ revenge! _ ”

The marionettes whooped and cheered at that. Ford spotted Amelia Earhart, Queen Cleopatra, Queen Victoria, Albert Einstein, and Queen Latifah among them.

“Of course!” said Ford. “Puppets leave no fingerprints, and Madame Curie was left-handed!”

“Exactly! But, as you know,” said Madame Curie. “We got the wrong target. But now, you three are here. What better way to exact revenge than  _ upon her witless nephews? _ Get them!”

Fiddleford screeched as Madame Curie and Queen Latifah launched themselves at him. Ford swatted at the incoming puppets of Einstein and Cleopatra while Stanley punched at Joan of Arc and President Nixon.

“There’s too many of them!” shouted Ford as he fended two of them off with his flashlight. He let out a grunt as one of them hit him in the stomach, and the flashlight went flying across the room.

“ _ Hiya! _ ” Stanley kicked another puppet in the face and sent it flying across into three other ones. The collapsed, tangled in their strings.

Fiddleford grabbed the strings of Queen Latifah and swung her away from himself. She clattered into Amelia Earhart and President Nixon. Nixon’s head went flying off and into the vent.

“The strings!” said Ford, shoving Einstein away from himself. “Tangle them up!”

“On it!” Stanley grabbed the puppets by the strings and whipped them around over his head with a Tarzan war-cry. He slammed two puppets into the walls, and the pieces flew everywhere. One of the hands started to crawl towards him, and he stomped it into splinters.

“Cool! Splinters!” said Stan, examining the mess he’d made.

“ _ Eeeeearrrrgggggg! _ ” Fiddleford flung another puppet into the wall.

“Nice!” Stan high-fived him.

Ford decimated another two puppets, and Stan began punching on the remaining few, ignoring their squeals of terror.

“Well, I’m traumatized,” said Fiddleford with false cheer.

“Not so fast!”

Madame Curie stood at the doorway, clutching the oversized axe in her hands.

“Time to finish this!” she growled.

Fiddleford squeaked and grabbed onto Stanley. “What do we do?”

“Hey, you’re asking the wrong twin!”

“RUN!” yelled Ford.

Curie slammed the door shut and chased the three of them around the room. Whenever one of them got close to the door, a few swings from her axe would keep them at bay. Fiddleford found himself standing on top of the desk, Stan crawled up onto a shelf, and that left Ford with nowhere to go.

Curie backed Ford into a corner.

“Say goodnight, kid!” growled Curie.

“FORD!” Stan leapt down to the floor, grabbed something and tossed it to him.

It was the flashlight.

Ford blocked the blow from the axe with the flashlight, suddenly very thankful that he’d bothered to shed a few extra bucks on the metal one. The axe came at him again and again, and he dodged and fended off the attacks to the whoops and cheers of Stan and Fidds. The blade sank into the wall and he gulped, reminded of how sharp it was.

“ _ Brat! _ ” hissed Curie, taking another swing at him.

“En guarde!” he cried as he parried the blows.

Stan tackled her from behind and Fiddleford kicked the axe away to the far side of the room. 

“Get offa me!” screeched Curie.

“Not on your life!” said Stan, raising a fist in warning.

Ford looked over to the door. Light started to leak underneath. Sunlight.

“Good morning,” said Ford with a wicked grin.

“ _ Nooo- _ ” Her anguished cry was cut in half as her eyes glazed over and she went limp. Night had come to an end, and so had her curse.

Fiddleford grabbed the axe. “Goodbye!” He slammed it into Curie, neatly decapitating her head. He tossed it onto the pile of broken marionettes.

“What are we gonna tell our Grauntie?” asked Stan.

“Robbers,” said Ford. “Or that the Marionette Murderer was back to finish the job.”

“That’s good, let’s go with that.”

Fiddleford yawned and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “We didn’t get much sleep.”

“Not a wink,” said Stan. “Maybe Grauntie Mabel has some of that juice!”

The three of them shuffled into the kitchen and poured themselves bowls of cereal. Fiddleford propped one hand up in his chin while he ate, and Stan drank two glasses of Mabel Juice and was wide awake immediately.

The three of them tensed when they heard the stairs creaking.

“I thought I heard a ruckus,” said Grauntie Mabel, adjusting her fez. “But I wasn’t sure. My hearing aid as out. Who was ruckusing?”

“The Marionette Murderer was back!” said Ford. “He took out the rest of the puppets!”

“Yeah!” said Stan. “They’re totally destroyed and are never gonna rule the night, again!”

“You’re kidding,” said Mabel, eyes wide and disbelieving. “Wow, some guy  _ really  _ hates puppets. Huh.” She looked over at Fiddleford. “Is he ok?”

“Uh,” said Ford.

Fiddleford’s hand had slipped and now his cheek was in his cereal. He was snoring quietly, his glasses crooked on his nose.

“That’s how those southerners do it, Grauntie,” said Stan with a knowing nod. “It improves the flavour.”

“Maybe I’ll try it, sometime. Say, you didn’t happen to glimpse the Marionette Murderer, did you?”

“It was Madame Curie,” said Ford before he could stop himself.

“She attacked Marionette Mabel!” said Stan.

Grauntie Mabel raised an eyebrow. “... Right.”

Ford realized it was too late to back out of the lie, now. “It’s true! The other broken marionettes? Not my doing.”

“Or mine!” added Stan.

“Uh-huh.” Mabel folded her arms. She knew when she was being lied to.

“But,” said Stan quietly. “Maybe a new Marionette Mabel would make up for the rest of the display?”

Mabel softened. She smiled. “Yeah, sure. I can’t believe Madame Curie would do such a thing, through. She was my favourite.”

“A tragedy,” said Ford.

“Hey, since you three solved this mystery and destroyed the creepy puppets- I mean, figured out who destroyed the puppets, why don’t you take something from the gift shop? On the house!”

“Really?” Stan was on his feet in an instant. “Thanks, Grauntie!” He dashed off to pick something out.

Ford grabbed Fiddleford’s wrist and dragged him into the gift shop so he wouldn’t miss out.

“I’d still prefer a raise,” he said wiping the milk from his face.

Stanley buzzed around the gift shop, looking for something to pick out. Fiddleford shuffled around, picking through the old knick-knacks for something moderately useful, doubtful he’d find anything.

Stanford was a simple kid. He didn’t much care for tacky souvenirs or stickers like Stan did. He was sure that his brother would pick out something like that. Ford found a notebook. It was big and thick and had a solid binding. It would be perfect for recording the adventures of the Mystery Trio. Besides, his old one was falling apart, anyway.

“This is sorta neat,” said Fiddleford, holding up a magnifying glass. When he peered through it, it made his eye as big as an orange. “Good for looking for clues.”

“Definitely,” agreed Ford.

He didn’t notice Fiddleford blush.

Stan kicked over a pile of empty cardboard boxes. “ _ Brass knuckles! _ ” he yelled, showing off his new prize. The knuckles glinted off of his organic pair, looking solid, lethal, and slightly too big for his small hands.

“Grauntie Mabel had brass knuckles in her gift shop?” asked Ford, surprised.

“I also saw a grappling hook,” said Fiddleford.

“Now I can punch things and be  _ shiny  _ while I’m at it!” said Stanley. He slammed his fist into the wall. Where it contacted, it cracked.

Fiddleford was nodding off where he was standing. His new magnifying glass was held limply in his sweaty fingers. He let his eyes close and tuned out Stanley running around and breaking things.

Ford pulled a pen from the pocket of his Batman pyjamas and opened his notebook. He wrote the date, then the title of his first entry.

_ The Marionette Murderer: First case solved by the Mystery Trio. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose Madame Curie to be the killer before I even knew she was left-handed! Total score!  
> Comments? Questions? Ideas? Let me know!  
> (did anyone spot the light Fiddauthor? It's so light. so smol. Expect more.)


	6. Stan-d By Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mystery Trio visit Gleeful's Car Lot. Stan befriends Buddy Gleeful over a shared love of hot rods, but pretty soon things get out of hand.

Ford painted his palm in yellow paint that he’d gotten from one of Grauntie Mabel’s many stashes of arts and craft supplies. He made sure to carefully coat each of his six fingers in the paint, then he pressed his hand onto the cover of his new journal. 

He peeled his hand away to admire his work. The yellow stood out very nicely against the dark red.

“What’s up, Sixer?” Stanley bounced into the room, wearing a newspaper hat. And holding a toilet paper tube sword. “Nerd stuff?”

“Decorating my journal.” He held up his new book. “Ta-da!”

Stanley looked at it with narrowed eyes and scratched his chin. His hat slipped to the side. “Hmm… it’s good, but it needs stickers.”

“Not everything needs stickers, Stan.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he said, peeling a T-Rex sticker off his sheet and slapping it to his cheek. “Stickers make everything better!”

“Sure, dude. Whatcha wanna do today?” asked Ford.

“Wanna walk into town?” Stanley tossed his paper hat aside, jumped onto his bed and flopped down onto his back. “Fiddle-Dee-Dee and I are gonna go to the car dealership. He needs parts for a new invention, I wanna look at hot rods.”

“I guess I could go with you. When are you leaving?”

“After Fiddle-diddle’s done working.”

“Could you stop with the dumb nicknames?” asked Ford. “I’m sure Fidds doesn’t appreciate it.”

“He doesn’t mind.” Stan rolled onto his stomach and kicked his feet back and forth. “Trust me, I can tell these things.”

There were thumping footsteps as Fiddleford ran up the steps. He burst into their room, wearing a stupid, goofy grin.

“I’m free!” he said. “Just finished fixing the TV for Ms. Pines. Let’s head out!”

“Awesome!” Stan leapt to his feet.

Ford propped his journal up to dry in the sun, wiped his painted hand on his shorts, and trotted after them.

 

“Gleeful’s Car Lot” was the only place that sold cars or car parts in town. It also sold tools, mechanical supplies, batteries, and electrical equipment. It was clean, had about every kind of car you could imagine, and had those little shiny paper streamers above the lot like every car sales lot has.

Stan and Ford followed Fidds into the main building, where they sold parts, oil, gas, and gave tune-ups.

Fiddleford slapped twenty dollars onto the desk. “I’d like a spool of copper wire, please.”

“Just one?” asked the kid behind the desk. He really was a kid, too. He had brown hair, chubby cheeks, and couldn’t have been older than nine or ten. The kid was wearing a colourful dress shirt, shorts, and a tie, which must have been pretty uncomfortable in this heat. On his necktie, he had a little green pin.

“Oh,” said Fiddleford flatly. “Hello, Buddy.”

“Who’re your friends there, McGucket?” asked Buddy, leaning over the counter.

“I’m Stanley Pines,” said Stan brightly. “This is my twin brother, Stanford.”

“Hey.” He gave a casual wave.

“What’s with your hands?” asked Buddy, squinting at him.

Ford quickly held his hands behind his back. “Nothing!” he said, his voice cracking awkwardly.

Fiddleford stepped in front of Ford. “Wire, if you please.”

“Hm.” Buddy twiddled with the little pin on his necktie. It glimmered faintly in the sunshine. “I could probably get you two or three, y’know. Tell you what, McGucket, I’ll give you three spools for the price of two.”

Fiddleford was surprised. That was a pretty good deal, he’d be an idiot not to take it. He slapped another twenty on the counter. “Done!”

Buddy hopped off the stool and grabbed the parts, taking the money with him.

“Here’s your change,” he said, dropping a few coins into Fiddleford’s hands. “Have a nice day!”

Fiddleford looked at his bag, then back at his change, wearing a confused expression. “Dangummit!” he cursed under his breath as he stomped out of the store. Ford trotted after him, his hands jammed into his pockets.

“Um, Buddy?”

Buddy looked over the desk, Stanley was standing there with stars in his eyes.

“That car out in front?” said Stan tentatively. “It’s um… wow. It’s so cool! Can you tell me more about it?”

“Sure!” Buddy hopped down and jogged around the counter. “Right this way!”

The car in question was a burgundy vintage with a white hood. It was slick and shiny, with the words “ _ El Diablo _ ” painted on the side.

Stan was in love with that car. He reverently ran his hand along the side, admiring the shiny paint job and the sleek design.

“El Diablo means “The Devil” in Spanish,” said Buddy, his hands in his pockets.

“That just makes it even  _ more  _ cool!”

“Wanna sit in it?”

“ _ Do  _ I!”

Buddy fished the keys out of his pocket, popped the car open, and the two of them slid into the front seats, Stan behind the wheel. Stan immediately put his sweaty hands on the steering wheel, admiring it with a silly grin.

“Phew, it’s hot in here.” Stan beeped the horn. “Oh, that’s so awesome!”

Buddy reached over and honked the horn, long and loud.

The two of them burst into laughter.

“I can’t wait until I’m old enough to drive,” said Stan, running his hands over the wheel.

“Well, we can’t drive this,” said Buddy, “ _ but _ I know where we can drive some bumper cars.”

Stan’s eyes went wide and he grinned. “Show me.”

 

Stan didn’t come back to the house until supper time. He bounced in with confetti in his hair, ears, and pockets.

“Where were you?” asked Ford as he served himself a plate of macaroni and cheese. “We lost you at the car shop.”

“I was hanging out with Buddy Gleeful,” said Stan. “He’s so cool! We went to sit in  _ El Diablo,  _ then we got to play bumper cars, and we found all these confetti poppers in the back of the car shop and we shot them at each other until his dad came and found us! It was awesome!”

“How come you didn’t wanna hang out with me and Fidds?” asked Ford, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “You can’t just  _ ditch  _ us.”

“I didn’t mean to! It just happened!” he said defensively, grabbing a plate. “Besides, it’s not that I don’t  _ wanna  _ hang out with you guys, it’s just that you and Fidds get to do nerd stuff all the time and I’m kinda left behind.”

“Not  _ all  _ the time!”

Stanley waved his hand emphatically. “Are you kidding? You two have been playing that nerd game on and off for, like, three whole entire days! I hate that game and you know it!”

Ford pointed his fork at him. “D, D, and more D isn’t a nerd game!”

“It is, too,” said Stanley, arms crossed. “Who makes  _ charisma  _ a character trait? Besides, there’s nothing wrong with hanging out with someone else. Buddy Gleeful’s a fun kid to be around, that’s all!”

“Buddy Gleeful?” Grauntie Mabel stomped into the room wearing her bathrobe, arms folded. “You’re not hanging around  _ him,  _ are you, Stanford?”

“I’m Stanley. Sure I am, what of it?” he asked, slopping mac ‘n cheese onto his plate.

“That kid is nothing but trouble,” she said, plopping herself down at the table. “His dad’s even worse. The guy won’t leave me alone!”

“Creepy,” said Ford before he began to shovel food into his mouth.

“Buddy’s cool,” said Stan. “We’re just-”

“I  _ forbid  _ you from hanging out with him,” said Mabel. “That’s final.”

“ _ What?  _ No fair!”

“Life ain’t fair, kiddo. Take it coming from an old codger like myself,” said Mabel, her jaw set. “Life will chew you up and spit you out. I’ve got my reasons for telling you not to hang out with him.”

Stanley huffed and sat at the table with his food. He took a bite and chewed angrily, making gross gnashing sounds with his teeth just for the sake of annoying Ford. Ford hated it when he chewed loudly.

If there was one thing Stanley Pines was, it was a rebel. He wanted to hang out with Buddy, so he was going to hang out with Buddy.

 

“I’m so glad you agreed to come with me, Stanley!” Buddy dragged him by the hand into a restaurant.

“Whoa! Fancy!” Stanley bounced after Buddy and up into a booth. The tablecloths were white and pristine, there were at least five forks at his place setting, there was a large tropical fish tank in the back, and they had cloth napkins. Stanley all of a sudden felt really grubby in his t-shirt and grass-stained shorts.

“Only the best for our first date,” said Buddy.

Date?

“Uh,” said Stanley, flushing from the neck to his hairline. “This is a date?”

“Well, yeah!” Buddy gave a laugh. “I like you, Stanley! You like me, too!”

“Yeah, but not like that! You’re, like, super young.”

“I’m ten! You’re twelve, aren’cha?”

Stanley fidgeted, uncomfortable. “Yeah, but…”

“You said you didn’t mind dating guys,” said Buddy accusingly, folding his arms. “What’s wrong with me, then?”

He might have mentioned it in passing, but he didn’t think it would get thrown against him so soon. Stanley waved his hands, not wanting to make his friend mad. “Nothing! Nothing at all!”

“Good,” said Buddy sweetly, twiddling with the pin on his necktie. “In that case, how about we order lobster? We can get chicken on our second date?”

“S-second date?” stammered Stan. “B-but-”

“Here!” Buddy shoved the menu into Stan’s hands. “Just flip through!”

Stanley began to worry that maybe his Grauntie had been right.

 

“Ford!” Fiddleford sprinted out of the gift shop and into the TV room, newspaper in hand. “You’ll never believe what happened!”

“What?” asked Ford, jumping to his feet, only to be smacked in the face by the newspaper.

“Buddy Gleeful’s taken Stanley on a  _ date! _ ” said Fiddleford, eyes wide. “Look!”

Ford pulled the newspaper away from his face to peer at the photo. Buddy had his arm around Stan, and Stan looked  _ very  _ uncomfortable. He had that sort of “help me” look in his eye that Ford often got when he found himself cornered by Crampelter.

“He’s  _ what? _ ” Mabel snatched the newspaper out of his hand. “Stanley, why is your brother on a date with that little  _ creep? _ ”

“I’m  _ Stanford! _ I don’t know! He told me they were just friends, he wouldn’t lie to me!”

Mabel growled and balled the newspaper up, tossing it away. “I’m gonna go have a word with  _ Gideon Gleeful _ and get him to tell his kid to stay the  _ heck  _ away from my kid!” She straightened her fez, cricked her back, and stomped out the door. 

“Get ‘im, Ms. Pines!” said Fiddleford. “Kick him in the “A”!”

“Kick his ass!” called Ford.

Fiddleford looked at him with wide eyes.

“I’m from Jersey,” he said simply. “I can teach you more cuss words, if you like.”

“Maybe later.”

 

Stanley came home from his second date with Buddy with river water in his shoes. Paddling in the boat on the river was supposed to be “romantic” according to Buddy, but Stan had somewhat “accidentally” tipped the boat. Despite the disaster, Buddy had asked Stan on a third date, twiddling with the pin on his necktie.

Stan found himself saying “yes” before he could stop himself.

“Whoa, what the hell happened to you?” asked Ford as Stan shut their bedroom door behind him.

“It was Buddy!” he said. “I-I don’t know what happened, but one minute we were friends, the next minute we were dating! He pulled me into it! It was like  _ chubby quicksand! _ ” He pressed a hand to his throat and made a fake choking sound.

“Why’d you say yes?” asked Ford, incredulous.

“I-I don’t know!” he said, pulling off his wet clothes. “I didn’t  _ want  _ to, but I just did! I don’t get it.”

“Me neither,” said Ford, scratching his chin. “Weird.”

“It was like I was being  _ forced  _ to or something!”

“Forced to? Like he grabbed your jaw and made you-”

“No, dummy!” said Stan, pulling on dry shorts. “Like he wormed into my brain and  _ made  _ me say it! One minute, I was totally against the idea, the next I was for it, then the feeling went away, again!”

“That’s… weird.” Ford reached into his backpack and grabbed the journal. “Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

 

Mabel pounded on the door of the Gleeful household.

“Gideon!” she yelled, fists clenched. “Open up, you little turdmonger!”

The door swung open. Gideon Gleeful stood before her. His white hair was swept up in a fancy updo, his blue suit was crisp and clean, and he wore a slightly-too-wide smile. He put his hands together and tipped his head towards her. “Why, Miss Mabel Pines! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Cut the crap, Gideon,” she said, her hands on her hips. “Why is your kid harassing my nephew?”

“Harassing?” asked Gideon innocently, leaning against the doorframe. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You know what I mean! Your little anklebiter won’t leave Stan alone! Looks like he takes after his old man!”

Gideon let out a chuckle. “Mabel, I’m sure that we can talk this out if you come inside for a cup of tea?”

“I’m not  _ stupid, _ ” she said, folding her arms. “You’re a real piece of work, Gideon. I have half a mind to clobber you!”

“Well, that’s not very civilized,” he chastised. “Although you always were a wild card, weren’t you?”

“Oh, no, I’m not falling for your flattery!”

“I can’t help telling the truth,” said Gideon. “You’re a lovely lady, Miss Mabel.”

“I hope you know that I can’t stand you,” she said. “You, your stupid flirting,  _ or  _ your swanky car shop! You tell your brat to keep away from my nephew, Gleeful! He’s a creep, just like his father, and there will be Hell to pay!” She stomped back down the steps and over to her bike, kicking over a garden gnome as she went.

Gideon waved at her as she drove off and she gritted her teeth. How she  _ hated  _ that man.

 

“So he wanted to check out the haunted warehouse with you?” asked Ford as they tied on their sneakers. “Why?”

“Uh, because haunted things are totally cool! Duh!” Stan dashed out the door, Ford on his heels.

“Something about this feels fishy,” said Ford. “But I’m gonna go in there and tell him to leave you alone.”

“You’re the best brother ever,” said Stan. “Aside from me, of course.”

“Heh, whatever.  _ I’m  _ the Alpha Twin and you know it!”

“Not a chance! Alpha Twin! Alpha Twin!”

The two of them dashed along the road, up to the abandoned warehouse. It loomed before them, its broken windows glittering in the light of the setting sun. It was positioned high up on a cliff, with a sea of evergreens stretching out below it, towards Gravity Falls.

“I can’t wait to get this over and done with,” said Stan as Ford pushed the enormous door open.

“Hiya, Stanley! Nice to- Oh.” Buddy Gleeful folded his arms. “What’re  _ you  _ doing here, freak fingers?”

“Hey!” said Stan. “Back off! Don’t talk to my brother that way!”

“I’m here to tell you to leave Stanley alone,” said Ford, “or I’m gonna make you!”

“Really?” said Buddy, fiddling with the pin on his tie. “You’re gonna  _ make  _ me?”

“Sure am!” said Ford, sounding more confident than he felt. He jumped when he felt Stan’s hand on his arm.

“Maybe he’s right, Sixer,” said Stan. His eyes looked weird and glassy, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of Buddy’s tie pin. “I guess we could keep hanging out, there’s no harm in that.”

“What?” cried Ford, yanking away from him. “You literally  _ just  _ told me that you didn’t want to see him, anymore! What the heck, man?”

“Tell him how you wanna be with me, Stanley!” said Buddy. The tie pin was glowing.

Stan’s eyes were glazed over. “But…”

Ford shook his brother. “Stan, snap out of it!”

Stan’s foggy eyes were glued to Buddy’s tie pin. “Ford, just-” 

Ford’s gaze travelled over to the hypnotic pin.

_ The pin! _

Ford launched himself at Buddy Gleeful, his hand grabbing at his tie. “Stop controlling my brother, you freak!”

His eyes landed on the pin. It glowed bright green.

He felt all his limbs relax as he climbed off of Buddy Gleeful. Part of his brain was screaming at him for this, wondering what the hell he was doing, but his body got to its feet and turned to his twin.

Stanley was rubbing at his eyes and blinking blearily.

“Buddy’s right,” Stanford heard himself say. “You two are having fun, and I shouldn’t get in your way.”

“What? No!” Stan lunged for Buddy.

Ford grabbed onto Stan’s arm and yanked him back and away from him. He didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want to fight with his brother, but something was making him. He couldn’t fight it.

Stan pulled out of his grasp, but Ford stumbled after him, wrapping his arms around Stan’s wriggling form.

“Let  _ go  _ of me!” Stan shrieked, elbowing him in the face.

Ford’s glasses flew off and he froze. He squinted and kneeled, patting the ground carefully. The feeling of helplessness ebbed as Stan was hypnotized again. He heard his brother apologizing to Buddy, saying of course they could keep hanging out.

_ It can only take one of us,  _ he realized,  _ and now I can’t see! _

It was a stupid plan. He squinted, barely making out Buddy’s shorter form versus Stan’s. Stan was walking slowly towards Buddy, arms held wide open.

“You shouldn’t let that pesky brother o’ yours get in the way of our happiness!” said Buddy Gleeful. 

“Right,” said Stan faintly.

Ford abandoned his search for his glasses and stumbled towards the two of them. He crashed into them, and the three boys went sprawling.

“ _ Ack! _ ” said Stan as Ford’s knee pinned his chest down. “What the heck?”

Ford blindly swung, connecting with Buddy’s shoulder. His other hand grabbed at his tie and yanked it off. It was a clip-on.

“ _ Give me that! _ ” shrieked Buddy.

“ _ Never! _ ” He pulled the pin off and smashed it against the ground. Green light shot from the glass as it was shattered.

“ _ No! _ My pin!” Buddy Gleeful tried to grasp at the shattered pin, but the magic was completely gone. He clenched his fists. “You’ll pay for this, Pines twins!” He scrambled away from them and sprinted out the door. “I’ll make you pay!”

Stan kicked at the shards of the pin. “What a jerk! I can’t believe he was hypnotizing me!”

“Um, where are my glasses?”

“Here!” Stan grabbed them from the ground and handed them to Ford, who promptly placed them on his nose.

“Thanks, Stan.” Ford pulled out his new journal and started to scribble in another entry about “Hypnosis Crystals”. “This is so cool! I wonder if we can find another one?”

“Ew, no thanks!” The two of them trotted out of the warehouse and started the long walk back to the Shack. “People should be able to make their own choices, Ford.”

“True,” he said, pointing his pen at Stan. “We can’t be trusted to use this power for good and not evil.” 

“Oh, definitely not.” Stan scratched his chin. “Although, wouldn’t it be awesome if we could hypnotize somebody into giving us free stuff?”

“Or buying us lunch?”

“Or letting us drive their car?”

Ford laughed. “You can’t drive!”

“ _ Yet, _ ” he said with a devious grin.

Ford punched him in the shoulder and the two of them ran off, laughing. It was getting on towards dusk, and the mosquitoes were starting to come out. They reached the main road just as they heard a loud roar. A familiar electric green motorbike pulled up.

Mabel pulled off her goggles to reveal her glasses underneath. “Hey, kids!”

“Grauntie!” Stan grabbed onto her leg. “You were right! Buddy Gleeful is nothing but trouble! He’s stupid and mean and tried to make me do stuff I didn’t want to!”

“I tried to warn you, kiddo,” she said, dropping a helmet onto his head. “I told you he was a bad egg.”

“Sorry, Grauntie,” said Stan.

“It’s alright, Stanford. Hop on, I can give you two dorks a ride back home.”

“I’m Stanley! The nerd is Stanford.”

“Eh, tomato tomato,” she said, pronouncing “tomato” differently both times.

Ford threw his bag into the sidecar and fastened on his helmet. “How did your talk with his dad go?”

“Not great. He’s still a creep, but I get this feeling he’s planning something.” Grauntie Mabel shuddered. “You two stay away from that family, you hear?”

“I hear ya!” Stan hopped into the bike with Ford and the two of them took off down the dirt road, back to the Mystery Shack.

They didn’t see Buddy Gleeful as they passed by, kicking up a cloud of dirt as they went.

Buddy swatted the dirt off of his clothes and coughed. “Damn you, Pines family!” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick, blue book. “I’m gonna get my revenge on you!”

A golden big dipper shone on the cover in the early evening light, painted next to a carefully drawn number “2”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! I thought it would be cool for Buddy to have hypnosis powers bc care salesman can always talk anyone into buying things! Plus, it would seem out of character for Stan to not be able to say "no" to Buddy.  
> Up next: The Inconveniencing!


	7. It's Inconvenient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mystery Trio hangs out with the cool kids at a haunted convenience store!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! I've been pretty focused on my stanchez fic. Hope you like it anyway!

Danny was  _ so cool. _ He was tall, athletic, had a ton of friends, and was just…  _ awesome. _ Ford tried not to be too conspicuous with his staring, but he was sort of worried that he was noticed, anyway.

“Did you just write “I’m pretending to write something down”?” asked Fiddleford, peering over his shoulder at his notebook.

“ _ Gah! _ ” Ford clutched his sketchbook to his chest. “Don’t sneak up on me!”

Fidds laughed and cuffed him lightly on the shoulder. “I’m just teasin’ ya! Think nothin’ of it.”

Ford relaxed and tucked his sketchbook into his jacket. “Sorry, man.” He looked back across the gift shop, where Danny was piling books onto Stan’s arms to see how much stuff he could hold.

“Go, go, go!” chanted Dan as Stan lifted up at least seventy pounds, the pile teetering over his head.

“Oh, oh no!” Stan stumbled and the pile collapsed, books scattering across the gift shop.

Fiddleford knelt down to pick up one or two that landed by his feet.

“Whatcha think of Danny?” asked Ford as he picked up a physics textbook, wondering why Grauntie Mabel would have something like this.

“He’s okay, I guess,” said Fiddleford carefully, picking up another book. “His friends like to make fun of me, though. They call me four-eyes and McSuckit.”

Ford hid his snicker behind his hand, but Fiddleford heard it anyway. He glowered at him.

“It’s not funny!” he said heatedly, dumping the books he’d picked up into Stanford’s arms. “They’re mean.”

“Hey, I get it.” Stanford held up one of his hands and wiggled his six fingers. “I know how you feel better than anybody.”

Fiddleford widened his eyes, then bit his lip. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be! It’s all in good fun.”

There was a beeping horn from outside. Danny dropped his stack of books on the counter with a thud. “Well, that’s my cue! See you dudes later!”

“Hey,” said Stan, pushing more books onto the counter, “where are you going?”

“Just gonna hang with some friends,” said Dan, adjusting his beanie. “It’s gonna be  _ sick _ .”

Ford had an idea. He gave him his best smile. “Well, since the three of us are done work too, maybe we could come.”

“Yeah!” said Stan.

Fiddleford looked a little unsure about this enterprise. He scratched the back of his neck and didn’t say anything.

Dan looked a little skeptical. “I dunno, guys. My friends are pretty wild. How old did you say you were?”

Stan put his hands on his hips. “We’re-”

“Thirteen!” blurted Ford. “So, technically teens.”

Stan gave his twin a look. Ford shrugged a little.

“Sweet,” said Danny. “Hey Fidds, you wanna roll, too?”

“I dunno,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You guys always make fun of me.”

“Pssh, we make fun of everyone and everything!” said Danny. “Ain’t that right, dork?” he said, giving Stan a playful shove.

“Sound ‘bout right, dweeb!” said Stan.

“C’mon, Fidds,” said Ford with a grin. “It could be fun.”

The tips of Fiddleford’s ears turned pink. “Well, since you’re going I guess I could, too.”

“Sweet!” said Ford, offering his hand. “High six?”

Fiddleford grinned. “High six!” He clapped his hand to Ford’s.

“C’mon, nerds!” said Stan, elbowing Ford in the gut. “Let’s get outta here!”

Ford and Fidds jogged out the door with Stan. A blue van was parked outside, loud music and laughter blasting from inside.

A kid in a green baseball cap stuck his head out the window. “Hey Danny, who’s that with you?”

“Hey, Tyler! This is Stan and Ford! I work with them at the shack.”

“Pile in, guys!” said another kid behind the wheel.

“Hey,” said another kid. He was wearing sunglasses and had very dark skin. “Is that McSuckit?”

“Yeah, he’s tagging along, too,” said Danny. “Go easy on him! So, dudes, meet Shandra Jimenez, Edwin Durland, Daryl Blubs, Tyler Cutebiker, and Toby Determined, who once ate a worm for a nickel!”

“Aw, you said you wouldn’t tell people that!” he whined in a nasally voice.

Danny laughed and slid the door open. “Hop in, dudes!”

Stan climbed into the very back, Ford slid in next to him, and Fiddleford crammed himself in last. Dan slammed the door shut and hopped into the seat in front of them.

“Um,” said Toby from his place behind the wheel. He was wearing a fedora and suspenders. “My mom told me you guys aren’t allowed to punch the roof of the van anymore.”

The teens looked at each other and laughed. Their fists began to pound against the roof. “ _ Toby! Toby! Toby! _ ” they chanted.

Toby leaned his forehead against the wheel and groaned before pressing down on the gas.

Stan took out a sharpie and scribbled monster faces on the wall, next to graffiti that read “ _ You stink! _ ”. He drew jagged teeth and crazy hair, mumbling about how, “Now the world will see my art!”

Ford stared at the back of Danny’s head. He had sideburns. Ford thought they looked nice.

“ _ Whatcha staring at? _ ” whispered Stan in his ear.

“ _ Gah! _ ” Ford pushed his face away. “Quit it!”

Stan grinned. “I’ve noticed how you’ve been acting around Danny!”

Ford spluttered. “ _ What?  _ No way! It’s not like that!”

“Love, love, love!” chanted Stan, poking Ford in the ribs.

“ _ Stop it! _ ” he said, squirming away from his twin, elbowing Fiddleford in the ribs.

“Ack!”

“Sorry, Fidds!”

Fiddleford flushed bright red. “I-it’s alright, Stanford.”

“Hey,” said Stan with a wicked grin. “I wonder what Dan would say if I told him about the kitten and puppy dance?”

Ford blanched and jabbed him in the chest with a forefinger. “ _ You swore you’d never speak of that again! _ ”

Stan cackled and rubbed his hands together. “I’m saving it for a special occasion. Seems like now’s a good time!”

Danny turned his head to look over at them, one arm draped along the back of his seat. “Whatcha nerds talkin’ about?” he asked.

“When we were six,” said Stan, “Ma used to dress us up in-”

“ _ We are not talking about this! _ ” shrieked Ford.

The van bumped to a halt in an abandoned parking lot. 

“Welp, we’re here!” Danny threw the door open and jumped out. Ford let out a sigh of relief and shot Stan a fierce glare that only made him laugh harder.

Stan, Ford, and Fidds scrambled out of the car and stopped when they sat the tall chain link fence. Behind it, there was a small store with no lights on. The darkened neon sign above it said “DUSK 2 DAWN” in capital letters. Weeds had sprouted up through the cracks in the sidewalk, and vines climbed up the sides of the building. It was dead quiet.

“Where are we?” asked Ford.

“Haunted convenience store, bro!” said Danny. “Legend has it that the owners  _ died  _ in the store!”

“Whoa! Cool!” said Stan.

“Eh, it’s probably just a myth,” said Edwin, his lanky arms folded.

“I bet it’s not!” said Daryl.

“Ew, it’s all spooky in there!” said Tyler, adjusting his green cap.

“C’mon, guys!” Danny put his foot on the fence and started to climb.

“Are we breaking in?” asked Fiddleford nervously, twiddling his fingers together.

“It’s abandoned, dude!” Dan dropped down onto the other side of the fence. “It’s not breaking in if nobody lives there!”

“Sweet!” said Stan, leaping onto the fence.

The other teens started to climb. Ford looked over his shoulder nervously. Climbing wasn’t his strong point.

“You coming?” asked Dan.

“Uh, yeah.” He started to scale the fence and got to the top. Vertigo made his head swim and he clung the the wire.

“You okay?” asked Fiddleford, who’d already reached the ground.

“How’d you get down so fast?” asked Ford, eyes wide.

“He was like a monkey!” said Danny. “It was awesome!”

“Uh, cool.”

“You need some help, Sixer?” asked Stan, who was sitting in the dirt with a snail on his nose. Stan, who had a fear of heights ever since The Ferris Wheel Incident, managed to climb the fence before him! Not fair!

“I’m fine,” said Ford, swinging one leg over.

“Here, I’ll help you!” Daryl Blubs grabbed him under the armpits and tossed him down to the ground.

“Jeez!” Danny caught Ford with a grunt and set him down. “Way to chuck the kid, genius!”

Ford’s ears burned. He opened his mouth to say that he wasn’t a kid, but the crowd had circled around the door of the convenience store.

Edwin Durland grabbed the handle and gave it a yank. “It’s locked.”

“Duh,” said Shandra, not looking up from her phone. “Did you really think it was gonna be that easy?”

“I’d kinda hoped,” he said, kicking his foot in the dirt.

Ford puffed his chest. His pride was still wounded from being tossed, he had to redeem himself and prove he wasn’t a kid. “I can get us in!”

“Me too!” Stan grabbed a rock and hoisted it in his hand. “Just gotta bust something!”

“I have a better idea that will involve less broken glass!” Ford dashed off around behind the building. “Back in a flash!”

“God, here we go,” said Stan, dropping his rock.

“Ford, what in all of tarnation are you up to?” shouted Fiddleford, cupping a hand around his mouth.

“Kid, are you okay?” asked Danny.

There was no reply. There were some muttered curses and the sound of crashes and clanking metal, but Ford didn’t answer any of their calls.

Fidds worried his lip between his teeth and looked over at Stan. Stanley gave a small shrug.

“You think he’s gonna be alright?” asked Fiddleford. Ford wasn’t as reckless as Stan, but he was still pretty reckless. He didn’t want to have to try figure out how to hoist his friend over that fence.

The front door opened. Ford stood there, panting and grinning.

“This way, folks!” he said, gesturing with a grand sweep of his arm.

“Sick!” said Danny, ruffling his hair as he walked by. Ford blushed when he did that, grinning even wider.

“Good job, kid,” said Edwin Durland.

“Your new name is Doctor Funtimes,” said Blubs.

“Not bad, nerd,” said Shandra, still not looking up from her phone.

“Super cool!” said Tyler.

Toby gave him a silent thumbs up and made a weird noise. Stan punched him in the shoulder as he ran by. Fiddleford offered him a shy smile.

“Hey, check it out!” Danny dashed to the back of the store and flipped a light switch. The lights flickered back on, humming lowly and casting a grey light on everything. The slush machine began to churn and the Dance Dance Revolution game hummed to life. “Sweet! It still works!”

“What do we do, now?” asked Ford, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Danny grinned and rubbed his palms together. “Anything we want!”

Stanley let out a delighted shriek and kicked over a display stand, sending cans of cat food scattering everywhere.

This set off a happy half an hour of throwing merchandise, snacking on ancient chips, and generally wrecking the place. Edwin and Daryl smacked each other with bags of cat litter, Toby tried to beat the high score on DDR, and Tyler tried to make an enormous stack of cereal boxes. 

Ford and Stan were chucking expired candy bars at each other, running down the aisle. A chocolate bar clocked Stan in the forehead and he laughed before something caught his eye.

“Oh, sweet!” Stanley ran up to a display stand. “Smile Dip! I thought this was banned in America!”

“You ever wonder why?” asked Ford.

“Nope!” Stan ripped open a package and dumped the pink powder into his mouth.

Fiddleford was now sitting on top of one of the shelves, throwing marshmallows at Danny. It had taken him a few minutes to warm up to the idea of wrecking things, but he quickly discovered that throwing things at friends was  _ fun. _ Stanford climbed up and plopped himself next to him.

“Best night ever!” said Danny, throwing a fistful of marshmallows at the two of them. 

Ford deflected some of the marshmallows with a cereal box, and Fiddleford was struck right between the eyes. He laughed and threw a handful back.

Danny reached into his bag. “Aw, shoot! Out of ammo!”

“I-I got it!” Stanford jumped down from the shelves and ran to the back to get more marshmallows.

When he rounded the corner, a skull with blood red eyes was staring at him.

“ _ AUGH! _ ” He slipped and landed hard on his butt, his glasses falling into his lap. He quickly replaced them, looking up to where the skull should be, but it was completely gone. He rubbed his eyes.

“Dude, are you alright?” asked Danny, peering down at him from the top of the shelf.

“Uh, yeah! I’m fine!” He grabbed the marshmallows from the storage room and raced back out, tossing a bag up to Dan before climbing up to his place next to Fiddleford.

“Um, Fidds?” asked Ford.

“Yeah?” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Do you think that this place may be… haunted?” he asked quietly.

“I dunno, Ford. It sure is creepy in here, though.” Fiddleford scratched behind his ear. “What makes you think that?”

“I-I dunno,” he said, kicking his feet back and forth.

“Whoa!” said Tyler from the back. Ford and Fidds peered over at him to see that his eyes were wide with horror. “Guys, come check this out!”

Ford and Fiddleford leapt down from the shelf and chased after Danny as they ran to the back. Ford’s shoes squeaked to a halt when he saw what was on the floor.

Chalk outlines. One was taller, the other was fatter, and they were splayed out behind the cash register, dusty with age. They were clearly the outlines of two bodies, now long gone.

“Whoa,” said Edwin. “Looks like the people really  _ did  _ die here.”

“Dare you to lie down in it!” said Daryl, elbowing his friend.

“Heh, sure! Alright!” Edwin took a step over to the chalk outlines. He raised his foot to step into the outline. “Woo, spooky!”

“Wait!” blurted Ford before he could stop himself.

Danny glanced at him. “What’s the prob, Bob?”

“I-I dunno if it sounds like a good idea,” said Ford pensively, shifting his feet back and forth.

“Psh, why?” said Edwin.

“Um,” said Ford, feeling more nervous and childish than ever. “It’s just… what if this place really is… haunted?” His voice cracked when he said this.

“Boo,” said Tyler.

“Captain Buzzkill,” said Daryl, folding his arms.

“I thought I was Doctor Funtimes!” said Ford.

“You’re kinda  _ acting  _ like Captain Buzzkill,” said Tyler.

Ford looked over at Danny. “Am I?”

Danny made a so-so gesture with his hand. “Kinda.”

“Update,” said Shaundra, not looking up from her phone. “Trapped in abandoned store with crazy nine year old. Hashtag lame, hashtag grow up.”

“I’m not nine!” cried Ford, walking over to the chalk outlines, his six-fingered hands balled tightly into fists. “I’m thirteen! Technically a teen!” He flopped down onto the outlines.

There was a scream that rang through the air. Ford leapt to his feet and dashed away from the outlines, heart hammering in his throat. The lights died in the store, and they heard a low, ominous voice whispering through the air.

_ You shouldn’t have done that. _

With a squeal, Shaundra vanished from thin air. Her phone clattered to the floor and skittered into the corner.

“W-where’d she go?” cried Blubs, clutching Durland to his side.

“Look!” Ford pointed at the security camera monitor.

On the screen, in black and white, they could barely make out Shaundra, banging her fists on the glass. There was no sound, but they could see that her mouth was open and screaming.

“Oh my god!” cried Fiddleford. “W-we gotta get outta here!”

The group sprinted towards the exit, only to have the doors slam in their faces. 

“Toby!”

They turned and saw Toby with his eyes glued to the DDR console in the corner, his feet going crazy as he tried to keep up to the arrows that flowed down the screen.

“Toby, we gotta get outta here!” cried Edwin.

“I-I can’t stop dancing!” he cried, before he too vanished with a squeal, only to reappear onscreen in the video game. They could faintly hear Toby’s screams as he tried to dodge the arrows that were descending down the screen. “Oh no!” he said in his strange, nasally voice.

“Well, this is great!” said Daryl, throwing his hands in the air.

“J-just perfect!” said Edwin, clinging to his best friend.

There was a flash of light and the two of them vanished. Ford, Fidds, Tyler, and Dan turned on their heels and gasped in horror when they saw that their friends were trapped on the cover of a cereal box, squirming away as an enormous toucan tried to eat them with an oversized spoon. 

Tyler let out a squeak of fear and dove into a cupboard, locking himself in. 

Ford saw Stan slumped in the corner, Smile Dip covering his mouth and shirt in fine pink powder. His eyes were wide and unfocused, and drool dripped from the corner of his mouth.

“Stan!” cried Ford, grabbing his brother by the shoulders. “How much did you eat?”

“Ugh…” Stan moaned, his head lolling when Ford shook him. “Onety-one…”

At that moment, Stan’s eyes rolled back into his skull and his skin turned light blue. He began to rise into the air, his hair and clothes rustled by a nonexistent breeze.

Ford screamed. Fiddleford clutched his arm in an iron grip.

“ _ SILENCE! _ ” bellowed Stan in a voice that wasn’t his.

Ford felt as though the breath had been yanked from his chest. He stared up at his twin, eyes wide in horror.

“ _ Welcome to your nightmares, children! _ ” he said, cackling. He brought his hands together.

Ford and Fiddleford gasped when they felt themselves falling upwards. Ford landed hard on his shoulder, and Fiddleford cracked an elbow into the ceiling tiles. They screeched as furniture, merchandise, and the cash register fell onto the ceiling, scrambling out of the way so they wouldn’t get by the falling canned foods.

“Dudes! In here!” Danny had found a filing cabinet and beckoned to them, eyes wide with fear. “Hurry!”

Ford and Fiddleford bolted for it, threw themselves into the cabinet with Danny, and locked the door.

“W-what’re we gonna do?” asked Fiddleford, his voice high and panicked.

“I-I dunno!” Ford pulled out his journal and a flashlight and started to flick through the pages hurriedly. “I-I read that most ghosts have a motivation of some kind! We have to figure out what it wants!”

“Dude, this is crazy!” hissed Danny, wincing when things started to get pelted against the cabinet, making loud clanging sounds. “We gotta get outta here!”

“I won’t leave without my brother!” said Ford. “Think! Why did the ghost attack our friends?”

“It was being crazy!” said Danny.

“Shaundra was texting,” said Fiddleford, counting off on his fingers, “Toby was playing a videogame, Edwin and Daryl were being sarcastic…”

“But those are just  _ normal teenaged things! _ ” spluttered Danny.

Ford pointed the light at him. “Wait! Say that again!”

“Normal teenaged things?” asked Danny, squinting into the flashlight.

“That’s it!” Ford stowed his book away again and kicked the cabinet door open.

“Ford! W-what’re you doin’?” cried Fiddleford, making a grab for him.

Stanford dodged under flying marshmallow bags and cereal boxes, crawling up to the front, where Stanley was hovering, his tongue lolling from his mouth.

“Hey, ghost!” shouted Ford, chucking a marshmallow at his brother to catch his attention.

“ _ What? _ ” snapped the ghost, Stanley’s head turning at angles that shouldn’t be conceivable, angles that would have broken his neck if he’d tried it.

“I got something to say to you!” he said, trying to look braver than he felt. Stanley was always the brave one, why couldn’t  _ he  _ be the one to get them out of this mess?

“ _ Oh? _ ” said the ghost. It laughed using Stanley’s vocal chords, and it sounded twisted and wrong. “ _ What is  _ that  _ little boy? _ ”

“ _ I’M NOT A TEENAGER! _ ” he shouted.

The ghost paused. The flying merchandise fell to the ground with gentle thuds.

“ _ You’re not? _ ” asked the ghost.

“I’m… twelve,” he said, glancing behind him at Danny and Fiddleford, who were still in the cabinet. He winced when he saw the look of surprise on Danny’s face. “Technically not a teen.”

“Oh!” 

Stanley’s skin grew pink again, and his eyes turned back to normal. His head lolled for a second before he looked up at Stanford, blinking blearily.

“Why didn’t you say so!” Two ghosts appeared. They were elderly, wearing  store aprons, and spectacles. The woman had long white hair, and the man had a pot belly. They looked like cuddly grandparents who baked cookies and watched soap operas.

They were holding Stanley by the armpits, and they dropped him gracelessly to the floor. Stan scrambled away to stand by Ford.

“Why were you doing this?” demanded Ford. “We want an explanation!”

“Yeah!” said Stan, brushing the pink Smile Dip off of his cheeks.

“Well,” said the man, scratching his balding head. “Teenagers terrorized our store when we were alive.”

“They shocked us into heart attacks with their violent music and destructive tendencies,” said his wife. “That’s why we hate them so much!”

“But they’re our friends!” said Stan.

“What can we do to convince you to let them go?” asked Ford.

“Hmm…” The man tapped his chin, then snapped his fingers when he came up with an idea. “Do you know any cute little dances?”

“Costumed, preferably,” added his wife.

“Sure, we do!” said Stan, sending Ford an evil grin, glancing at Danny and Fiddleford out of the corner of his eye. “We know the kitten and puppy dance!”

Ford blanched. “ _ Don’t you dare! _ ”

“All we need is costumes!” said Stan, putting his hands on his hips.

The ghost snapped his fingers. A pink kitten and a purple puppy costume appeared on the twins.

Ford glared at Stan. The kitten costume was itchy and  _ pink  _ and he wanted to jab a fork into Stan’s eye.  “I hate you  _ so  _ much, right now!”

“You can beat me up, later!” said Stan. “But right now, you gotta dance, kitten!” Stan poked him with his paws and sang, “ _ One day the puppy and kitten went out to play! _ ”

Ford gritted his teeth, wiggled his hips jerkily, and growled out, “ _ The kitten looked to the puppy and heard him say… _ ”

“ _ Me oh my it’s a lovely day! _ ” Stan danced away, swinging his arms.

“ _ Be careful, said the kitten, do not stray! _ ” Ford hissed under his breath as he swung his arms. “I’m gonna kill you, Stan!”

“ _ Don’t worry, said the puppy, here I’ll stay! _ ” Stan danced closer, grinning. “You’ll have to catch me, first!”

“ _ And they went hand in hand on their way! _ ” they chorused. Ford and Stan leaned in, winking cutely. Ford was sweating bullets, and Stan was still wearing that stupid grin.

“Excellent dancing!” said the ghost wife, clapping her hands together.

“That’s some fine girly dancing, kids!” The ghost husband snapped his fingers and the costumes disappeared.

“Oh, thank god,” said Ford, adjusting his glasses. He turned to look at Dan and Fiddleford. Danny was laughing silently, holding his ribcage, and Fiddleford was pressing a hand over his mouth, eyes watering as he tried to hold in his giggles.

Ford glanced at Stan. “You’re dead to me.”

Stan snorted.

“You and your friends are free to go,” said the man. He clapped his hands and disappeared. “Farewell!”

Ford felt the blood rush to his head as gravity was suddenly righted. He and Stan screeched as they crashed to the floor, and huddled under a shelf while all of the furniture slammed down to the ground.

“Ooh, man…”

“Ugh, what the heck?”

“Th-this place really  _ is  _ haunted!”

Ford and Stan crawled out from their hiding place to see their friends dragging themselves to their feet. Daryl and Edwin leaned on each other for support, Tyler fixed his cap, Toby and Shaundra staggered to their feet.

“What happened?” asked Daryl.

“Oh, man!” Danny laughed aloud, clapping a hand to his forehead. “You guys aren’t gonna believe this! Stan and Ford had to-” He glanced over at the twins.

“What did we have to do, Danny?” asked Stan, grinning wickedly.

Ford’s eyes were wide and his lips were tight as he shook his head, praying that Danny would keep his mouth shut.

Danny coughed. “It was crazy! Stan hit the ghost with a left hook, and Ford figured out some kind of spell to banish them back to where they came from! It was totally sick!”

Stan scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Sounds about right.”

Ford mouthed a silent  _ thank you. _

Danny winked and tapped his nose.

Ford tapped his nose, too.

Fiddleford was committing this moment to memory. He desperately wanted to remember Stan and Ford in those stupid costumes for the rest of his earthly life.  _ That  _ would be a funny thing to bring up at a family dinner when they were in their teens.

 

“Thanks for taking us out,” said Ford as he, Stan, and Fidds climbed out of the van. It was pitch black out, by this time, and Fiddleford knew that he was  _ so  _ grounded.

“Dudes, you totally saved us, back there!” said Danny. “Without you, we would’a been toast!”

“Heh, no problem,” said Ford, scratching behind his ear.

“I kinda have to re-evaluate my entire life, now. Oh, four-eyes!” Dan chucked a bag of marshmallows at Fiddleford, smacking him in the face. “Here! For next time!”

Danny shut the door of the van. “Later, dudes!”

The van pulled off, blaring music and chants of “ _ Toby! Toby! Toby! _ ”

Fiddleford looked at the package. “They’re expired.”

“You could make a marshmallow launcher,” said Stan, then mimed a gun noise. “Pchew! Pchew!”

“We could have marshmallow battles!” said Ford, thrusting his fist into the air. “Marshmallow war!”

“You think so?” said Fiddleford, grinning. His ears were burning.

“I know so!” said Ford. He checked his watch. “Yeesh! It’s like ten o’clock.”

“Oh, man. I am  _ so  _ in trouble,” said Fiddleford, running around the shack to get his bike. “See you tomorrow, guys!”

“Bye, Fidds!” said Ford, waving to him.

“His face was red,” said Stan.

“Yeah, it’s sorta warm out.”

Stan slapped a palm to his forehead. “You’re dumb. Let’s go inside.”

The stairs creaked underfoot as they headed into the Mystery Shack. They heard the TV playing, and they dashed to the back to see their Grauntie Mabel.

“Sorry we’re late!” said Ford.

“You were out?” Mabel looked over at them, her pink fez crooked, an empty bucket of ice cream in her lap.

Stan tilted his head. “Are you watching wrestling?”

“No!” she said, flailing slightly as she tried to stand. “I couldn’t find the remote, so I had to  _ endure  _ three hours of this garbage! Honestly, you kids!”

“Can we watch?” said Stan.

Mabel glowered at him, putting up a show of thinking it over really hard. “Well… I  _ guess… _ ”

“Thanks, Grauntie!” said Stanley, dashing off into the kitchen to make sandwiches. Ford trotted after him, pulling out his own notebook to document the experience. He deliberately left out the part about the costumes.

 

When he found his notebook the next day, Stan had written that part in. In  _ ink. _

_ Never forget, Sixer!  _ he wrote, next to a doodle of them in the costumes.

“ _ I hate you, Stan! _ ” he shouted. He could hear cackling from the downstairs part of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a behemoth to write. So. Many. Characters.  
> I thought twins dancing would be funnier, idk.  
> Up next: Fiddleford vs Manliness!


End file.
